Middle Ground : WH Extras
by lynlyn
Summary: This is a collection of one shots, mostly centered around Kuroro and Kurapika, and set after Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken. They can be read by themselves, but they'll be more meaningful if you've read WH before. Chapter 8, Fireplace, uploaded.
1. Moral Lessons

**Title** : Moral Lessons

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email :** cloud121383

**Warnings** : Kuroro / Kurapika slash warning, implicit and explicit references to sexual activities but no outright descriptions, swearing, blatant disregard of the canon characterizations, and the usual Geneiryodan inclination towards violence

**Rating** : M for adult themes

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm only a college student.

**Notes** : This is cross-posted to my LiveJournal account, and the 30 Kisses LJ community. I wrote this as a sequel to _Festivities_ (authored by Yukitsu), and since _Festivities_ is kind of a follow-up to _Wild Hearts_, _Moral Lessons_ can be considered a sequel to WH, too. Kurapika and Kuroro are very much a couple here, so coming from the quasi-relationship they have in WH, reading this may be a bit of a shock to the unwary. I'm warning you now that they are out-of-character, especially coming from a canonical point of view. This is what happens when I let my muses loose, without the restrictions of plot development, and is the first time that I've attempted to write anything remotely smutty, so please bear with my inexperience in using sexual innuendoes.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Kuroro Lucifer came awake completely, silently, without a single movement to alert anyone nearby to his ascent to the conscious world. Something had roused him from his sleep, and from the lack of foreign nen in the vicinity he instantly knew that it was nothing threatening, but just the same he stayed still and took a second to take stock of his surroundings.

It was very early in the morning, judging from the muted, grayish light filtering in through the room's two windows. In the wan illumination of the young dawn he could just make out the outlines of several objects – clothes folded neatly on the floor, two small traveling bags leaning against the wall by the door, the low table and the wooden chest that came with the rented room, and his roommate, still sleeping deeply under the heavy blanket of the futon beside him.

"Dancho," someone said quietly, almost inaudibly. Kuroro recognized the voice immediately, and his senses pegged the accompanying aura as belonging to his second-in-command. Pakunoda was waiting behind the door. It was probably she who had awakened him in the first place.

He got up noiselessly, careful not to jostle the other futon and its occupant. His feet didn't make a single sound as he padded across the tatami mats towards the closed door of the room. He was decent – well, mostly decent, as Kurapika had insisted that they try wearing the bathrobe-like pajamas that the inn had provided them, and the cloth belt had somehow come undone during the night. He still had his boxers on underneath, but Pakunoda probably had an important reason for rousing him from sleep this early and wouldn't appreciate him meeting her in his half-naked glory, so he closed the open robe and tied the sash in a secure square knot.

Kuroro unlocked the latch on the door and pushed it open, the surprisingly sturdy sheet of thin plywood sliding silently on well-oiled rollers. As he'd expected, his second-in-command was right outside, somehow managing to sit comfortably on her heels in a skirt that was just slightly longer than her usual provocative outfit. As he knelt down and copied her seating position he wondered at the time. The sun hadn't even risen yet, but Pakunoda had already changed out of her bedclothes and into one of her business suits.

"Good morning, Dancho."

"Good morning," Kuroro returned affably, but he knew that Paku hadn't disturbed his sleep just to greet him. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Shalnark called in," she started immediately. Kuroro caught her eyes flicking quickly to the room behind him. She was checking to see if Kurapika was awake. Kuroro shook his head; there was no need to wake the young man for now. Pakunoda's quiet alto lowered a bit more in volume as she continued to speak.

"The auction has been rescheduled to today, at three in the afternoon. Shalnark said that he didn't think we'd have any problems acting now, but four more full contingents of hired security arrived just thirty minutes ago. We don't know how they found out, but they know that we're here."

Kuroro swiftly added the figures in his head. "That's just one battalion shy of the men we took on in York Shin. They're getting pretty paranoid for such an obscure group…"

"It _is_ the largest underground auction this region has for this season."

"It's not even an underground activity anymore, now that they're going to do it in broad daylight," Kuroro corrected with just the slightest scowl of displeasure. He brooded for the next few minutes, thinking over what would need to be changed in their original plans.

"Dancho?" Pakunoda prompted when he finally heaved an annoyed sigh of acceptance.

"Phinx and Feitan will cause a small distraction just outside the auction site – something mundane and not too alarming, maybe a loud disagreement, then a brawl between themselves. If they want to involve any of the guards, it's up to them, but I don't want them to cause too much damage. They have to fool the guards into thinking that there's trouble to be dealt with, but not one the Geneiryodan caused."

"You don't want us to draw attention," Pakunoda said, more as a clarification than a question.

"Yes. I want to be able to return to this inn without being chased, and with no one at the auction realizing that we've stolen the items until after we're long gone. I don't want to us to be identified, either, because I'd like to stay here a couple more days before we separate. So we'll send Nobunaga and Machi on patrol around the site, to get rid of whoever may be calling for backup. If a call does get through, Franklin and Shizuku will intercept them, and dispose as needed."

"We'll be spread really thinly."

"It should work, as long as everyone does what they have to do," he mused. "And no one like Kurapika shows up to try to make a bid for revenge," Kuroro added, smiling lopsidedly.

The Geneiryodan second-in-command smiled at seeing the rare humor her leader was showing. She didn't really believe in portents, but she wanted to take it as a good omen that nothing disastrous will happen when they implement this new, hastily-constructed plan. If Kuroro Lucifer felt up to joking before a mission, then it could only mean that he was confident that the operation would succeed.

"And the infiltration team will be…?"

"Shalnark, Coltopi, you, and me. We already know the route to the storage rooms, and with Coltopi duplicating an item every thirty seconds, it shouldn't take us more than thirty minutes," Kuroro said decisively. "And if Bonorenolf doesn't mind, I'll have him stay behind again this time, make sure that our cover isn't blown here while we're dealing with the auction. It will take us the whole morning to set up, at most an hour for the operation, and at least an hour of making sure that no one will follow before we get back here…"

Pakunoda stayed quiet as Kuroro's voice trailed off. He had already dealt with the most important details, and she didn't have any questions, but she waited for him to mention one last name, waited for a few moments before it finally dawned on her that he had omitted it on purpose. She barely managed to control her incredulity, stopped her voice from rising a few octaves, and instead channeled her disbelief into a hiss of surprise.

"You're not thinking of leaving Kurapika here?"

"Yes, I am," Kuroro replied, surprised at the vehemence in Paku's whisper. "I'm not saying that he's not capable of carrying out any task I would have him to do – in fact, he's become very adept at infiltration and surveillance. But this has become a zero-tolerance mission. We would need to kill; and if things don't run according to plan, we would have to get rid of everyone on that auction site."

"You're protecting him," the mind-reader said almost accusingly.

"Well, yes. He has killed before, and he doesn't hesitate as much now if there's an absolute need to do so, but I don't want to place him in a situation where he'll be forced to kill for a mission that he doesn't really need to get involved in."

"Are you sure that is wise – to decide what is best for him in his place?"

"Why can't I?" Kuroro was confused now. Pakunoda had never questioned his decisions to leave any member behind to guard hideouts before, and he truly had no idea why she was doing it now. He wouldn't be leaving orders for Kurapika, but that was almost the same as leaving a member behind as a lookout.

"We know the different ways these missions could go; we know what we need to do in worst-case scenarios. Kurapika doesn't. He doesn't know how violent it can get when something happens that we need to kill everyone in sight."

Kuroro stopped to see if Paku understood his points. She still look unconvinced, and kept looking between him and the sleeping figure in the room behind him. He thought that maybe she was concerned about how Kurapika would react to being excluded.

"He'll understand. He didn't actually volunteer for this mission, if I remember correctly."

"If you're sure, then," she conceded dubiously. "I just hope that your confidence will not be proven wrong when we come back."

"It won't," Kuroro said as a final assurance. Then, issue having been solved, he shifted immediately to his dancho persona. "It's approaching six thirty. Wake the others, if they aren't up yet, and tell them to get ready. We're leaving in thirty minutes."

Pakunoda nodded, stood up, and started on her way towards the other members' rooms. Kuroro shut the door and prepared for the day's activities. Kurapika was still sleeping, probably exhausted from the sightseeing the two of them had done yesterday.

As he preferred to leave before his lover awoke, Kuroro washed up and dressed as silently as he could. He thought briefly about waking the blonde to ask if he would agree to stay behind, but decided against it in the end.

He loved Kurapika, the quiet, principled young man who had barged into his life one rainy York Shin night and overturned almost everything he knew end over backwards. He liked the blonde's sharp intellect, and he wondered at how Kurapika managed to keep his innocent grace even with such a dark and painful past. He marveled at the way they balanced each other's strengths, made up for the other's weaknesses, complimented each other the way only attracting opposites could, and tolerated and accepted whatever differences might exist between the two of them. He trusted the blonde with his life and with his heart, and he knew that the Kuruta felt the same way about him. In both cases, it wasn't a trust given lightly, an act only people with their background and peculiar work experience would understand and know how to do.

Kuroro felt that one of the reasons why Kurapika had allowed himself to fall for his former mortal enemy was because he knew that the older man wouldn't coddle him, patronize him like others would. Kuroro tried not to, of course – Kurapika was capable of taking care of himself, and was an accomplished artifact hunter and a powerful fighter in his own right. He treated Kurapika the way the blonde would treat him – never with kid's gloves – but being the older, the leading person in their relationship, Kuroro sometimes found himself spoiling the younger man – much like a love-struck husband doting on his beloved wife.

Which was why he slipped out with the rest of the Ryodan that morning without telling Kurapika about the changed mission. He didn't want to risk entering into an argument that would waste time – an argument that he knew he would eventually lose no matter how logical his rebuttals would be. The less tactful of the Geneiryodan would probably laugh their asses off if they realized that their leader chose to yield in a good number of arguments with their youngest member because he loved Kurapika too much – very much like a love-struck husband who didn't want to anger or lose his beloved wife.

---ooOOOoo---

As Kuroro had predicted, it took them the entire morning to set up and prepare a distraction, the kind that wouldn't be traced back to the Geneiryodan. Shalnark, acting on a sudden impulse, called several animal rights groups and tricked them into believing that the auction happening that afternoon included some rare and endangered species, to be sold off to private collectors and hobbyists. By lunchtime, a large group had gathered outside the building, and the guards were kept busy trying to keep the angry mob from rushing inside.

On the agreed hour, Phinx, playing the part of a furious activist, picked a fight with some of the guards, and Feitan, flitting behind the security barricade, gleefully pushed random guards into the already volatile mix. A full-blown riot immediately erupted. With everyone distracted, the infiltration group easily sneaked inside the building, even if they didn't have the required passes. It was a tie and gown affair, and the four of them were dressed appropriately – anyone who did notice them just assumed that they were early guests, trying to escape from the trouble brewing outside.

They _did_ have to kill a number of people, especially those they met once they entered the employee-access-only areas. It was only natural to assume that what security remained inside to guard the auction items would be more alert to suspicious people without authorized passes. But once the problem of the sentries was dealt with, the operation proceeded accordingly. Shalnark and Pakunoda carried the genuine items to Coltopi, and handed them over to Kuroro – who had the storage skill ready – and then returned the fake items to their respective crates. Working like an impromptu assembly line, they were able to finish well within the projected time limit.

The rest of the afternoon was spent covering their tracks. Nobunaga, Machi, Franklin and Shizuku had done their tasks well – too well, in fact. No one arrived on the scene to help suppress the riot until after Nobunaga and Machi had ceased killing any guard they saw about to speak into their standard walkie-talkies, and Franklin and Shizuku had stopped intercepting any police vehicle that approached within blocks of the area. The auction's organizers eventually decided to call the event off, since it seemed that the roiling mass of humanity was discouraging their guests from venturing into the vicinity.

Shalnark even had time to lead Shizuku back into the building, to dispose of the bodies they'd hidden in broom closets en route to the storage room.

Kuroro worried that some of the Geneiryodan might be dissatisfied with the way they handled the mission. They'd had to act more underhanded than usual, and they wouldn't be able to boast about pulling off the theft, since they had so masterfully fooled the organizers into thinking that nothing untoward had happened, except for the misunderstanding that had incited the riot.

He shouldn't have worried. They all trooped back to the inn in high spirits, satisfied with a job well done, delighted with the deception and mayhem they had participated in and caused. Kuroro had almost forgotten about the warning Pakunoda had given him that morning.

But then Bonorenolf met them at the front gates of the inn, already abnormally large eyes bugging out even more than usual, and informed Kuroro that a livid Kurapika was waiting for him at the inn's lobby. That was when he realized that his second-in-command may have been right in warning him not to leave his partner behind.

Kuroro might have been able to placate the irate blonde by apologizing sincerely and explaining his reasoning behind his decision, but Nobunaga made the situation worse by opening his mouth before Kuroro could start to say sorry.

"Aww… did the widdle Kuwuta get weft behind?" the swordsman sneered. He was still riding on the thrill of their latest raid, and failed to see the horrified looks his fellow members were shooting him.

What he _did_ see – regrettably, only after the words had already left his mouth – was Kurapika's inheritance finally giving in to anger, storm-tossed eyes of blue darkening into eerily glowing red.

---ooOOOoo---

"Shouldn't we check up on Dancho?" Nobunaga asked into the silence of the lounge.

"Nah," Shalnark answered offhandedly. The information analyst continued to type furiously, face glued to the screen of his notebook computer. "They need to work their problems out on their own. We really shouldn't interfere with these kinds of quarrels."

"What? But it's been five minutes since the brat dragged him up the stairs!" Nobunaga exclaimed in disbelief, referring to the way Kurapika had grabbed Kuroro by the lapels of his suit and hauled the unfortunate man up said stairs, right after Nobunaga had let his cutting remark loose.

"Idiot. You don't understand what's happening, do you?" snorted Machi contemptuously.

"I understand perfectly! Dancho made him release his restrictions months ago – there's nothing stopping the chain bastard from hurting him now!"

"Don't you think that they'd be making a lot of noise if they were really fighting seriously?"

"Chains can gag, you fool!" Nobunaga retorted angrily. "I don't believe this. You guys aren't even worried! I'm going up there right now, and you'll see that I'm right!"

"What!" Shalnark yelped, Nobunaga's ultimatum finally distracting him from his computer. "Wait, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into –"

"Ah, let him go," Phinx drawled. "It'll be his fault for not listening."

"He'll probably force his way in and interrupt Dancho and Kurapika…"

"No," Phinx countered at Shalnark's worried mutter. His eyes glinted evilly at the thought he was about to impart to his companions. "I think the kid's gonna leave the door unlocked on purpose…"

Nobunaga was already stomping up the stairs towards the second floor, so he didn't hear Phinx and Shalnark's last statements. If he had, he would have realized that there might be something else happening, that it wouldn't hurt to be more discreet with what he was about to do. Instead, he charged down the hallway towards Kuroro and Kurapika's room, mind focused solely on the belief that his fellow Ryodan were being tricked, that Kurapika had looked mad enough to kill, that his dancho was in danger, that it was now up to him to stop the chain assassin from finishing what he had set out to do a year ago.

He stopped outside the last door on the left and listened for any sounds coming from the room.

There! That was definitely a groan of pain! He was right! Nobunaga rushed forward and shoved the door open. This should prove that they shouldn't have trusted the Kuruta, and teach the other members not to call him stupid…

The first thing he saw were the chains, twinkling reflected light back at him from the darkness of the room. The last time he had seen the silver links was more than a year ago, in the months that had immediately followed the chain assassin's capture. Nobunaga had tried his best to put that incident behind him, but even up to now the sight or sound of chains could cause him to remember how he had lost his best friend to a certain inexperienced runt of a teenager. Said teenager had grown into a more experienced fighter, but that's not the point…

The point is, chains did not hold pleasant memories for the samurai, and so one can just imagine his shock at seeing them again after so long, now wrapped around his dancho's wrists and one of the legs of the low table at the center of the room. The lights were off, and the only illumination in the room came from the hallway behind him, and so he couldn't figure out what was happening until after his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

Nobunaga didn't know why he almost never noticed the obvious in any embarrassing situation until it was too late, until he had further humiliated himself and the other parties involved by uttering something very stupid, or doing something equally indiscreet. The other Ryodan had never bothered to deal with his clumsiness seriously, usually preferring to laugh his blunders off as something that could never be cured no matter what anyone did. Of course, that meant that he also had to endure Phinx and Feitan's taunts and Kurapika's cool glares of disdain, but they never taunted or glared very long once he got mad enough to pull his sword out. It was just something everyone had learned to live with, an expected distraction that happened every time they gathered for their missions.

But in retrospect, Nobunaga realized that he would have to learn to be prudent from now on – or, since prudence is something that would probably take him years to master, at least pound into himself the habit of knocking before opening doors. As it is, he had already yelled out "You traitor!" and "What the hell do you think you're doing to Dancho!" at the blonde who did not seem to have noticed him barging into the room.

He saw the chains. He saw that Kuroro was lying on his back, hands tied to one of the table's legs. He saw that the treacherous Kuruta was sitting on the leader, and not allowing the taller man to move against him by pinning his shoulders down to the floor. He saw the leader's face set in what seemed to be a pained grimace, and he saw the hate-filled Scarlet Eyes when Kurapika turned his head around to look at him.

It took a full half-minute after his first exclamation for the obvious to finally penetrate his glee at catching the Kuruta doing something decidedly untrustworthy… that both of the occupants of the room were naked. Their clothes were strewn about the floor. It took another half-minute before Nobunaga realized that he had interrupted something that no self-respecting samurai would ever dare to interrupt, or risk losing the dignity and the purity that came with the title.

"Y-you! Dancho! Brat! CLOTHES! AHHHHH!"

"Nobu…"

It was Kuroro, responding first to his horrified scream, but the man's voice was strained… like he was having difficulty speaking. He sounded hurt, but Nobunaga was already reevaluating his earlier observations. The chains… and the positioning… Kurapika was _straddling_ Kuroro, doing… doing…

"AHHHHH!"

"Nobu!"

And the hate he had seen in the brat's eyes wasn't hate at all. Kurapika was leering at Nobunaga, an actual salacious sneer that he would have easily imagined Hisoka doing, not the prim-and-proper Kuruta that they had all come to know and accept.

"AHHHHH!"

"Nobu, I suggest you close the door and leave before –"

Nobunaga's brain had finally caught up to his eyes now, and he didn't miss Kurapika intentionally grinding his hips down on Kuroro, willfully impaling himself further than what Nobunaga thought physically possible, and he knew that no mortal man, not even the dancho, would have been able to think, much less talk, after being on the receiving end of a maneuver like _that_.

"OH MY GOD!"

The chain assassin was rolling his eyes, heartlessly mocking the trauma Nobunaga was experiencing. And even while "involved", the boy didn't fail to inject the usual toxic amount of contempt into his order. "Takes care of the malicious intent to maul and maim members of the Spiders. And your leader has just heroically sacrificed himself for you. Now if you don't mind, we're busy. Get out."

Nobunaga lost it right there and then. He slammed the sliding door shut and tripped over his own feet trying to back away from it. He scrambled down the length of the hallway on his hands and knees. By the time he reached the stairs, he was hyperventilating so badly that when he tried to get up to walk down, he overbalanced and tumbled down the steps painfully and gracelessly. He was still screaming bloody murder when he burst into the function room where the other members were waiting for him.

They took one look at his beet-red face, the froth that had somehow formed around his lips, and his overall shell-shocked appearance, and instantly knew what had happened.

"Saw something you didn't like, did you?" Phinx chortled.

"We told you that you shouldn't bother them, but you wouldn't listen," Shalnark admonished.

"That should teach you to knock first before entering," Machi announced.

Half of his mind was still trying to kick-start itself from the death it had experienced just a few seconds ago, and most of the other half was preoccupied with the task of attempting to bring his muddled awareness up to normal speed, which was why just then, he didn't possess the mental capacity he would normally need to make the transition from Traumatized to Spitting Mad at his friends' insensitive disregard for his plight.

But his mind _did_ register their indifference, and a tiny voice reminded him that they were right, and an even tinier voice told him that he should have expected it, that the whole Ryodan already knew that their leader had been screwing the chain assassin brat for months now and –

The tiny voices didn't help, and he continued to sputter and froth and moan about his eyes and the loss of his innocence.

"Who's top this time?"

It took Nobunaga perhaps upwards of a minute to realize that Shizuku, the sweetest and most naïve-looking out of all the members, had just pried her nose out of her paperback to ask a question that he would only dare ask after a dozen bottles of beer.

"I dunno… the kid was mad enough…" mused Phinx.

"Ask him then," Feitan said, interjecting the suggestion with a jerk of his head at Nobunaga's direction.

Phinx eyed Nobunaga doubtfully. "I don't think he'll be able to talk much."

"I can't see Dancho being the bottom, though…"

"He already knows that Dancho's doing the kid, so I can't see why he'd react this much."

"Maybe they switched this time around?"

It was almost an hour later when Shizuku finally took mercy on him and knocked him out with her vacuum cleaner.

That, or they had grown tired of amusing themselves watching his face cycle through the most interesting combinations of green and red and puce, and more annoyed and concerned that his yelling might wake the rest of the inn's occupants.

And, as Shalnark had so tactfully pointed out, the couple in one of the rooms above them would probably need to sleep after their exertions, and wouldn't appreciate being kept awake. Even though they knew better, they still didn't want to risk being subjected to the brand of vengeance the younger of the pair had just put Nobunaga through.

---ooOOOoo---

"We've just scarred him for life, you know."

"That was the point."

"Was that really necessary?"

"Are you complaining?"

"No," Kuroro answered quickly – perhaps too quickly, and his breath caught in his throat as Kurapika raised his head from where it had been lying on his chest to smirk at him. The smirk brought back memories of the mind-blowing sex they had just minutes ago. Under normal circumstances that would have been enough to make him hard again, but he was simply too tired right now. Pleasantly exhausted. And slightly afraid of this more aggressive side his lover had shown him.

As if to reinforce his thoughts, Kurapika lazily pulled himself up with cat-like grace, and dipped his head down to give Kuroro a slow kiss. He responded, of course, but this time he didn't feel the need to dominate. The intense blue glow in the blonde's half-lidded eyes made Kuroro think of a panther licking its chops after a satisfying meal.

"Mmm… maybe I should make you mad more often."

Kurapika huffed and rolled his eyes in exasperation. Then he rolled away and got up. Kuroro wanted to groan aloud at the sudden loss of contact, but as it was after embarrassing situations, he felt the need to start thinking about damage control. So he followed Kurapika to the bathroom, which was starting to fog up from the hot water that was gushing from the faucets the blonde had opened, into the sunken bath that took up almost half of the tiled room.

"You're not thinking of taking a bath right now?" Kuroro protested.

"Bath first, then bed. This won't take too long," Kurapika replied firmly.

He wanted to sleep. He hadn't felt this tired in ages. Hell, he had no idea that sex could be _this_ tiring, not when he was supposed to be the dominant in their relationship. Kurapika, in contrast, didn't look spent at all, arms crossed and eyes carefully waiting for the water to reach the right level in the tub.

Kuroro, not one to pass up any chance to ogle the Kuruta unobserved, found himself admiring Kurapika's backside – the slim waist, the toned muscles, the graceful dip towards the lower half of the backbone –

He had a sudden epiphany, a thought that the blonde could be cheating. He had always thought that the Scarlet Eyes only triggered during their lovemaking because of the emotions the blonde might be feeling, and he had never considered that it could be increasing Kurapika's stamina…

No, that was absurd. The Eyes were more likely to tire the boy out afterwards, even if it did make him more powerful for a short while.

And speaking of emotions, was Kurapika still angry at Kuroro for leaving him behind?

"About this morning… I'm really sorry that I didn't take you with us."

The blonde didn't answer, and Kuroro felt his stomach sinking in dismay.

"It's just that Shalnark received intel that they'd found out, and that they'd moved the auction date to today, and they'd tripled their security, which means they were expecting us – we created a distraction which made it easier for us to get in, but we still had to kill everyone we met on the way to the storage room, and if you went along you'd probably be forced to kill some of the guards too, and I don't want you to stain your hands here, not when you enjoyed the festival so much the other day…" Kuroro's rushed explanation tapered off haltingly, and he cringed when he realized how lame and how desperate his excuse sounded.

Kurapika didn't move, except to turn the faucets off. The awkwardness that had settled in the steamy room while Kuroro spoke felt all the more palpable in the silence.

_Great sex, a great night, a nice bath, and a good night's sleep, shot all to hell. Kuroro, you idiot._

Kuroro froze when Kurapika sighed, turned around, and padded towards him on bare feet. The wait almost killed him, because the boy didn't look up until he was standing in front of him. And for what felt like the umpteenth time that night, he felt his heart stop when he saw the affectionate smile the blonde had on his face.

It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

"I can't stay mad at you," Kurapika said softly, raising a hand to touch Kuroro's cheek, "not when you look so adorably lost and confused on how to apologize to me. At least, tell me the next time you want me to stay behind, all right? I'll decide if I'm going or not."

Kuroro nodded dumbly.

Kurapika's smile widened, and his eyes danced with mischief. "Try to pull that stunt again without telling me, and you're sleeping on the couch."

He couldn't stop the relieved laugh that bubbled its way out of his throat, but he managed to fire off a teasing "Yes, sir!" in response to the threat. And when his partner tugged on his hand, Kuroro let himself be pulled toward the waiting bath. He stayed for as long as Kurapika wanted to wallow in the soothing embrace of the warm water, too. Even if he felt strangely revived after his affront had been forgiven, his body still felt ready to collapse – the tension he'd felt during his apology hadn't helped any. But, he reasoned to himself, it wouldn't hurt to make an effort to stay on Kurapika's good side.

Besides, if he wanted to increase his chances of getting more booty from his normally-shy lover, (especially booty similar to the performance the blonde had given him that night) he would have to remain on his best behavior…

--- end ---


	2. Bring Me

**Title** : Bring Me

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email **: cloud121383

**Warnings** : This takes place around 2 years after WH – assumptions are that Kuroro and Kurapika are an official couple, and that Kurapika has succeeded in wheedling Kuroro into taking the Hunter Exam.

**Rating** : PG-13 for adult themes and some swearing

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm only a college student.

**A/N **: The Mexican-based country "Belerue" is just an invention, as is its economic policy in dealing with precious ores. "Isobel", however, is the name of a real friend - I had to come up with a cute Mexican-sounding name, and my partner suggested using our friend's name.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Have you ever attended one of these parties before?"

Kurapika scowled at his dark-haired companion, and then cringed as a particularly high-pitched scream of delight assaulted his eardrums.

"What do you think?" he asked tartly.

"Somehow, I don't see you as the shrieking type," Kuroro mused, "Though you do moan quite nice–"

"Kuroro! Not here!" Kurapika hissed, looking around wildly at the packed restaurant. It was a reflex action, done more out of habit in response to his partner's impish disregard for modesty. None of the adults sitting on the tables around them would have heard, anyway – they were all focused on the loud and merry children's party that took up almost half of the establishment's single large room.

"The emcee's an adequate host, the music's too loud, and almost everyone here has kids they're looking after. I don't think anyone will care, even if they did hear," Kuroro reassured, even as his eyes triumphantly took in the fetching blush that had bloomed across Kurapika's face.

"I can't see why everyone's getting so worked up over a simple game of Bring Me," the blonde muttered in an undertone, the complaint inaudible under the jaunty jingle that was currently blaring out of the restaurant's sound system. Kuroro heard Kurapika perfectly, though – the music was just an annoyance that faded into a background roar once you knew how to use nen to filter sound to hear the things that really needed to be heard.

"The excitement of the hunt, the thrill of going against competitors, and the promise of a reward in the end," Kuroro explained ambiguously, "Surely you, as a Hunter, would know how it feels like?"

But Kurapika was feeling petulant, senses slightly unbalanced by the discordant blending of the emcee's microphone-enhanced voice, the kiddie music, the children's yells, and the adults' laughter all around them.

"That's different," the blonde protested, "And they don't have to go about it so noisily."

Kuroro laughed, though not unkindly. Even after more than two years in each other's company, he still found it amusing – and endearing – that mere noise could unsettle the normally unflappable young man sitting at the other side of the small table.

Noise, and whatever show of affection he would periodically drop on the unsuspecting Kuruta.

"But you do know how it's played?" Kuroro pressed, aware that Kurapika had called the game by its most popular name.

"Of course. I may not have played it, but I've read about it in books."

"It's a childhood game, Kurapika. People don't usually know about Bring Me by reading about it in books."

"We celebrated our birthdays differently. And I've never had time for silly fun and games, between training and the massacre, and what happened after…"

Kuroro, dismayed at the bad turn their conversation had taken, immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that this would remind you… Do you want to switch to another restaurant?"

"No, I'm all right," Kurapika replied. Then he rolled his eyes at the anxious frown the older man was giving him. "How many times must I tell you that I may not have forgotten, but I've already forgiven? And I'm not feeling very nice right now, Kuroro. Apologize one more time and I really _will_ do something I may regret later on."

Kuroro's first instinct was to leer and make a perverted comment at what that "something" might be, but seeing as the blonde was scowling at him so magnificently, probably already accurately predicting his current train of thought, he forced the damning words away before his mouth could get him into deeper trouble. His second instinct was to apologize, but of course, he had to struggle to suppress it, too.

He settled for murmuring a weak, "All right."

"Besides," Kurapika continued, jerking his head at the plate glass windows that adorned the restaurant's north side, "It's snowing heavily outside. And even if there are other restaurants near enough, I don't want to leave after we've already ordered."

"Ever the practical one," Kuroro chuckled. "But we still have to put up with all this screaming."

And with that, Kurapika turned his scowl over to the pint-sized culprits cavorting just a dozen meters away from their table. "Yes, unfortunately."

"This is the last one, now," the emcee boomed jovially, "Whoever brings me the item fastest gets a shiny new bike!" The children squealed in excitement. Kurapika grimaced. Kuroro discreetly brought a hand up to cover his grin.

"Bring me something golden!"

"Good luck," Kurapika muttered under his breath. "It would be impossible to find gold jewelry here."

Kuroro hmm-ed noncommittally. Kurapika was correct; the precious ore was virtually nonexistent around these parts. The island-nation of Belerue had rich silver deposits, and they used the ore extensively in their economy. As a way to ensure that the value of their silver remained stable, Belerue's government enforced exorbitant tariffs on gold importation. The effect was that nobody wanted to try getting gold into the country; the tax expenses far outweighed the value of the gold itself.

Kurapika checked his watch. It had been fifteen minutes since they ordered. He wasn't feeling impatient, but the service was slower than what he was used to. Kuroro had insisted that they pay the normal way this time; they didn't know how the restaurant's waiters might react at the sight of authentic Hunter identification cards.

Ah, well. At least the restaurant wasn't boring. The children were still scampering all over their respective parents, turning pockets and purses inside-out in their mad search for a gold-plated coin. The adults were only half-heartedly helping; they all knew that none of the kids would be able to find anything made of gold within the confines of the restaurant. The promise of a brand-new bike sounded too good to be true, after all.

Kurapika opened his mouth to voice an opinion that maybe the emcee was trying to pull a trick, but he stopped when he felt something tugging at his arm. He looked down, and blinked in surprise. A girl no older than five was staring up at him.

"What is it?"

The girl tugged at his arm again, more insistently this time. Kurapika looked at Kuroro in bewilderment. The man was watching amusedly.

"What does she want?" Kurapika asked uneasily.

"I think she wants you to go with her."

"Go with her where?"

"To the front."

"What? But –"

The girl tugged again, and if Kurapika hadn't yielded and stood up, she would have lost her grip and landed on her bottom.

"Just go," Kuroro said cheerfully, "It'll be fine."

And Kurapika went – or rather, the five-year-old pulled him along the short distance from their table to where the emcee was still waiting for a kid to bring the correct object to him.

"Hello!" the garishly-attired man bellowed into his microphone as soon as he saw Kurapika and the girl stepping up onto the platform, "What do we have here?"

The girl let Kurapika's hand go and scurried up to the emcee. She stood on tiptoe and held a hand against the side of her mouth, as if unwilling to let anyone else hear what she wanted to say. The emcee bent down indulgingly, but his microphone was only an inch away from the ear he presented to the girl – and so the child's stage-whisper was amplified for the entire restaurant to hear before Kurapika could do anything to stop it.

"Auntie has gold hair."

Normally Kurapika would have flown into a flying rage – especially considering that the only people who dared to make fun of his feminine features to his face nowadays were the more masochistic members of the Ryodan, and wannabe-mercenaries who were too stupid to understand why the Geneiryodan were so feared – but he couldn't do that right now, couldn't lose his temper at a child who didn't know better and bystanders who weren't actually being malicious. So he could only stand in mortification as the emcee and everyone else in the restaurant laughed good-naturedly at the girl's antics.

But Kuroro was an exception, the royal bastard. Kurapika could hear his deep laughter from halfway across the restaurant.

To his credit, the emcee managed to control himself right after everyone else lost it. He saw Kurapika's beet-red face and decided that he'd better step in before their foreign guest could be embarrassed even more.

"Ah, sorry, sorry…" the emcee paused to glance at the girl's nametag, "Isobel, _hija_, that should be 'uncle', I think."

Kurapika didn't know how the child would react upon being told the earth-shattering revelation of his true gender. He wasn't prepared for huge brown eyes that instantly turned liquid in dismay and horror. For a second he panicked, but somehow he was able to smile soothingly at the child. "It's all right; I'm not angry. So," he turned to the emcee, "did Isobel win the prize?"

"Well, your hair _is_ golden," the man began hesitatingly, "Blond hair is quite rare around these parts. It's probably the first time these kids have seen hair as light as yours…"

Kurapika, even though feeling discomfited at the way he was being singled out, recognized that the man was stalling. His earlier suspicion that the emcee could be trying to trick the children into bringing him something made of gold was probably right. He raised one of his eyebrows – an expression, while unthreatening, still looked stately enough to intimidate lesser men into agreeing with him.

"But yes, yes – Isobel wins the bicycle."

Isobel squealed in delight – Kurapika wondered why kids squealed at every little thing, and why all their squeals sounded the same to him – and ran up to where an assistant was rolling the two-wheeled vehicle out from behind a partition. The noise from the audience now turned to cheers and appreciative laughter, and from across the restaurant Kurapika saw Kuroro giving him a pleased smile. He rolled his eyes for the second time that night, and started to make his way back to their table, but before he could step off the platform he was stopped by yet another insistent tug on his arm.

The five-year-old girl no taller than Kuroro's knee was beaming up at him, reaching for him with both arms. Kurapika leaned down in reflex – and Isobel hugged him around the neck, pulled back, and kissed him wetly on the cheek. Then she bounced away to where her family was waiting with the new bicycle.

Kurapika walked back to his table feeling a bit less irritated than before.

"You just made her day, you know," Kuroro remarked when he had sat down.

"Mm."

"All the brats are looking at you. Maybe they're thinking that you'd be able to help them win the next games."

"God forbid!"

"So, still think that children's parties are noisy wastes of time?"

"Ah, shut up. You were laughing pretty hard back there," Kurapika grumbled accusingly.

"But I couldn't resist – you're endearing when you pout."

Kurapika's cheeks reddened. At that moment he was saved from having to say anything else by a waiter arriving with their orders, and Kuroro thankfully stopped his affectionate teasing, to be continued at a later, more appropriate time and place.

The party's emcee started a new game, one that promised to be as raucous as the previous one, and the children didn't disappoint. They shrieked delightedly, the adults clapped and cheered heartily, and the restaurant stereos continued to blare deafeningly. Kurapika still frowned when the children yelled too loudly, but anyone who knew him as well as Kuroro did would have noticed him smiling whenever any of the kids won prizes.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

September 22, 2005

This one-shot was originally posted on my LiveJournal, and on the 30 Kisses LiveJournal community. Some of you may have read this, but those of you who don't have LiveJournal accounts may not have seen this before, so I thought that I should probably post here. Consider this one-shot, and the following one-shots, as drabbles to tide you over while waiting for chapter 16 of Wild Hearts.


	3. Draw

**Title** : Draw

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email **: cloud121383

**Warnings** : Main pairing is Kuroro/Kurapika, with slight overtones of Killua/Gon. There's some swearing and a moral issue, but no violence this time.

**Rating** : PG-13 for adult themes

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter or D.Gray-man, their characters, or anything associated with them. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm only a college student.

**A/N **: Second late gift-fic of the month, this time for Yukitsu. After close to two weeks of ignoring my muses, I sat down one Friday afternoon and just _wrote_, and didn't stop writing until I finished this at 3 AM the next morning.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Leorio wasn't a gambler.

He himself knew that. He'd entered various lotteries over the years, tried his luck at horse races, visited some casinos and a few seedy establishments he'd rather not tell anyone about, and just like any other regular Joe, relied more on chance rather than on any demonstrable skill.

And just like any other average person thinking that he'd strike it rich someday as long as he kept buying lottery tickets, he never won anything, except for that one time when the boxer he had bet on had won by default because his opponent had to withdraw due to a sudden severe case of stomach flu.

He could never seem to win at card games, too, even the ones that were only played for fun and didn't have anything at stake. His face was too animated, too expressive, and he could never keep his emotions under control. Leorio was incapable of making a poker face; he would always grin triumphantly or smirk knowingly whenever he got a good hand, or he'd frown and fidget and bite his lip whenever he got bad cards. Try as he might to stop his reactions, something would always get through, and his opponents would always read his expressions and counter accordingly.

He'd tried to cheat a few times. He wasn't stupid; he knew about the odds that casinos stacked against blackjack and roulette table players. He knew that there was such a thing as sleight of hand, and that people who were good at it could make millions at poker games. Gambling wasn't exactly a legal activity, anyway – what was another sin compared to the bigger picture? Unfortunately, it wasn't in his character to be subtle or cunning. He was capable of cheating, yes, but he was incapable of cheating without being caught.

Still, Leorio continued to gamble. After all, he'd told himself once or twice, it was all for his dream of becoming a doctor who treats patients for free. All for his promise with the late Pietro. To achieve that goal, he was willing to do anything, even gamble or cheat – despite the fact that he sucked at both activities.

That was before he knew about the Hunter Association and the exams they sponsored once a year, about Hunters, about the Hunter identification card and the privileges being granted to those who owned them. He could live like a king, have access to all the money he would ever need – the money he needed to get himself through medical school. It was a far better solution than gambling. He was young and fit, and knew a thing or two about fighting and surviving on his own. It shouldn't be too hard to pass the examination.

At least, that was what he had thought before entering the exam itself. He had been completely off in his assumptions, and had nearly failed – twice, in two separate exams. If not for the help of his new-found friends, he wouldn't have passed.

Scratch that, he wouldn't have gotten past the first test. He might not have reached Zaban City at all, not without Gon, who had so easily impressed the old sea captain and the ciceroni, and not without Kurapika, who had stopped him from losing his temper at the old woman and her riddles.

In any case, he had passed. He was a Hunter, and he could finally start studying to become a doctor. He stopped gambling for money, stopped trying to cheat his way through card games. Meeting Gon, Killua and Kurapika had changed him; even when the four of them had gone on their separate ways, he still acted as if they were with him. Just the thought of Kurapika frowning at him was enough to put him off gambling for life. And if he ever felt the inclination to cheat in his exams, to give in when his old friends invited him out on beer nights, he only needed to think about his promise to become a doctor, and imagine the expressions the kids would wear on their faces if they ever found out…

All of that should have kept him from falling into his current predicament, but no, despite having found a capacity for honesty, he was still stubborn as hell, and still had a quick temper that struck when the right buttons were pushed. The train had been relatively empty; there were perhaps a dozen or so passengers in the economy cars. He, Gon, Killua and Kurapika had of course chosen the luxury car reserved for Hunters, and he'd gotten up during a lull in their conversations to see if there was anything interesting going on in the other cars.

Leorio's rotten luck had caught him the attention of three swanky-looking men who were occupying one of the moderately-priced compartments – private, and more costly than three economy tickets, but still less expensive than the luxury cars. One of them had said something snide about his suit or his shades – he had already forgotten which, in his growing frustration – but the bottom line was that they had roped him into playing a round of draw poker, poker with anything of value at stake.

He had already lost all of his money, his shades, his suit, his tie, his shirt, his shoes and his trousers, and he was down to the last stitch of clothing on his body – his boxers. Thank god that he'd left his Hunter card and his briefcase with Kurapika; the three thugs would have pounced on the card immediately if he'd had it on him.

He could have bailed out when he lost the first game, but he was too stubborn – and, he didn't want to hear Kurapika berating him about losing money because of an insignificant and pointless card game. So he kept playing, in the hope that he'd be able to win his things back. Unfortunately, he kept losing, and in a vicious cycle, lost one article here and another item there until the only thing left for him to bet on was his underwear.

"Hey, are you sure about this, brother?" one of the thugs – Leorio had named him Twiggy because he resembled a bundle of twigs masquerading as a snotty blueblood – asked in sweet tones of concern. "You can pull out now if you want to. We'll even let you keep your boxers."

"Yeah," another (Smiley, because he seemed extremely fond of flashing his perfect set of teeth at anyone who looked his way) chimed in, "I mean, think of the other passengers! They'd be scared out of their wits if you walked out of here stark naked!"

Leorio struggled to squelch the explosion that he could feel was coming. It wouldn't do to lose his wits now. He had a pair of aces; he might have a chance with his current hand, and he could at least win his trousers back.

"No. It isn't over yet," he bit out at his opponents. He glared down at his hand, and wished with all his might that two other cards would turn into aces as well. At least with his trousers on, Kurapika might be more merciful, and maybe only knock him senseless instead of skinning him alive.

"I'm going to call," Leorio announced. He would have raised and tried to bluff his way out of this mess, but he didn't have anything else to raise his bet with. Maybe matching their bets would be enough. Maybe his glare and his body language would be enough to scare the bastards into folding. He was a Hunter, he was a damn good surgeon, he knew nen and he was definitely smarter than his three opponents. If all else fails, he could just beat the three into giving him his things back…

But he was in their territory now, and they were totally out of his league. Besides, he couldn't start a brawl in public just because he sucked at cards. Leorio wilted as they smirked, obviously not fooled by his bravado, and prepared to match his bet –

"What on earth is going on here?"

Leorio wilted even more, as the compartment door slid open behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Leorio, what happened to your clothes?" Gon's bewildered voice asked.

"Err…" Leorio uncurled a little out of his ball to look over his shoulder. Kurapika had stepped into the compartment, and was surveying the scene exasperatedly. Gon and Killua were behind him, looking curiously – or speculatively, in Killua's case – at the other three occupants, who looked more than a little peeved at the interruption.

"We were playing cards," Twiggy enunciated haughtily. He looked Kurapika up and down, and whatever he saw probably didn't agree with him, because he gave a sniff and turned away. "But then you so thoughtfully butted in. Now, if you don't mind, we'd like to finish this round."

"I do mind," Kurapika replied neutrally, "Because Leorio's my friend, and I don't want to see him being trounced at something he has no control over. Leorio, you know better than this!" the blonde scolded.

"I know," he said miserably. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you guys to see me like this…"

Leorio didn't want anyone he knew, especially the people who knew him as a doctor, to see him so thoroughly humiliated. He was now doubly ashamed because his best friends had caught him at his weakest, but at least Kurapika didn't seem angry, and Gon and Killua, instead of looking at him accusingly were now narrowing their eyes at the three hoodlums.

Kurapika sighed and closed his eyes. When he next opened them, they were calm, friendly, and placating. Not at all what Leorio had been expecting to see. Then the blonde reached for the wallet he kept in his back pocket, took a wad of cash out, and slapped it down on the table.

"This should cover Leorio's boxers, since I can already see that he's losing." Leorio started to protest, but Kurapika talked over him without breaking a stride. "Let him go with this, all right? I'd rather not see him streaking through the train in his birthday suit."

The third thug, whom Leorio had mentally dubbed "Nostrils" because they were the most prominent features on his face, snorted. Something within Leorio attempted to snarl at the joke, but that part also trusted Kurapika. For now, it would be wiser to make as graceful an exit as he could manage, and thank his luck that his friends had managed to bail him out. He started to get up, and prepared to sprint the distance to their car –

Kurapika stopped him with a hand on his arm, and Leorio's eyes widened when he saw that the blonde had his Hunter card out.

"Here," Kurapika said, holding the card up between two fingers. "I'd like to try to win Leorio's things back – one by one, if you want. This will be the only thing I'm going to bet. It's an authentic Hunter identification card." The blonde paused, and took in the greedy looks Twiggy, Smiley, and Nostrils had acquired. "I trust that you know how valuable this card is, and that you'd be foolish to pass up the chance I'm giving you. I lose once, and it's yours."

"Wait, Kurapika –"

"I know what I'm doing," Kurapika whispered. "Just relax; I'll have your clothes back in no time."

"I didn't know that you played poker," Killua said quietly. "Are you sure you can win continuously? I can take them on myself if you want me to."

"Yes, I'm sure. Would you guard the door and make sure that no one interrupts us? I'd rather not have anyone else see this…"

The Zaoldyeck heir looked Kurapika in the eye, looking for something that only he could see, and he nodded imperceptibly when he found it. Leorio couldn't believe it. Killua was letting Kurapika proceed with his half-assed plan to win his things back. Kurapika, who could never put a toe out of line, whose moral sense could put even saints to shame. Kurapika, who looked like he'd never played a poker game before in his entire life and wouldn't be able to beat anyone, not even Leorio, and certainly not these three men. Kurapika, who had laid his Hunter card on the table and was smiling innocuously at his opponents, who could barely hide their glee at facing someone so obviously harmless and young and new to the game –

_Oh god he's going to lose and he's going to lose his card and it'll be my fault and he's going to beat the crap out of me after this and I'm never going to get my necktie back –_

Someone elbowed him, and Leorio realized that he had muttered his fears out loud for Gon and Killua to hear. "Settle down and watch," Killua drawled. "You of all people should know that Kurapika always means what he says."

"Ten rounds should be enough," Kurapika murmured. Twiggy, Smiley and Nostrils didn't seem to care how many games Kurapika wanted to play. They looked confident that they could get the card after the first round.

But Kurapika won the first game, and the game after that, and then the game after that. He won again and again, and Leorio watched slack-jawed as the Kuruta displayed his hands – a full house in the first game, a four of a kind in the second, then all flushes and straights and straight flushes after that, all with the higher cards.

"Hey, what's going on? Isn't he unbelievably good at this?" Leorio muttered to Killua as he dumbly put his tie back on.

"He's cheating," Killua answered in a voice too low for the three thugs to hear.

"What!"

"The other three are cheating, too, and desperately, I might add; but Kurapika's out-cheating them all," Killua continued in an admiring tone one master gambler would use to acknowledge another.

"Royal straight flush," Kurapika announced. "I win again."

"Argh! Damn it!" Smiley cursed. He had long since stopped smiling. Twiggy's snotty coiffure had been disheveled beyond repair. And Nostrils' nostrils flared crazily with each impossible hand Kurapika played against them.

"A couple more games should do it," Kurapika said lightly. "One round for Leorio's wallet and another for his money."

"Time out, time out! We wanna talk, just the three of us!"

"Take all the time you need," Kurapika conceded. He was still smiling in that benign, almost dull-witted way that had fooled Leorio into thinking that the blonde couldn't possibly do any better than he had done.

Twiggy, Smiley and Nostrils turned around and began to whisper furiously amongst themselves. They were trying to be quiet, not intending for Kurapika to hear what they were talking about, but they didn't know that the other four occupants of the compartment had hearing senses far keener and sharper than ordinary people. Kurapika, Leorio, Gon and Killua could hear every word of their whispered conference.

"What's going on! He should only be getting shitty cards!"

"Maybe we're the ones being played…?"

"We were underestimating him because he's just a kid!"

"He's definitely not just some ordinary kid!"

"He's an expert!"

"This is crazy. We have to pull out all the stops. This is war!"

It was no use. Kurapika crushed them, winning two more games and successfully recovering all of Leorio's possessions. He set his latest hand – another royal straight flush – down on the table and picked up his Hunter card. "Thank you for obliging me all this time, but I'd like to stop now," he said pleasantly, as if he hadn't just won thoroughly and repeatedly.

"Wait!" Twiggy shouted, "This ain't over yet!"

Kurapika stood up. "We've played ten games, and I've gotten all of Leorio's things back. I know that we didn't actually agree on the number of games, but it's obvious that I will keep on winning even if we continued, and then you'll be the ones taking your clothes off."

"Why you little –" Nostrils' hands moved in a threatening manner – perhaps reaching for a knife or a gun hidden somewhere on his person. It seemed to be some kind of signal, because Twiggy and Smiley lunged for their bags, too.

All three froze when Kurapika tilted his head to one side, smile now turning predatory.

"You gentlemen are not planning on depriving me of my Hunter card, are you?"

"Damn right we're –"

Kurapika's eyes flashed, blue bleeding instantly into bright red. Nostrils stuttered. Leorio could actually imagine the gears in his head shrieking as they were forced to turn backwards in mid-clank.

"– we're not! We're not! I'm sorry, we're not planning on doing anything, I swear!"

"What? But you said –" Smiley howled in mid-protest. Nostrils had turned around and aimed a vicious kick at his shin.

"We're not!" Nostrils hissed at his companions. "Say that we weren't going to do anything!"

"R-right."

"We'd never even think of it."

"Good," Kurapika purred. His eyes had gone back to their normal blue, but they were still chillingly sharp. "Because robbing me of anything I own is a privilege exclusive to my partner, and I assure you, he would be most displeased should anyone attempt to infringe on that right."

Leorio shivered. For a moment there he had completely forgotten that Kurapika was living with the leader of the Phantom Brigade. It wasn't that it didn't show – Kurapika looked and dressed more smartly now, in dark colors and cuts that complimented his eyes and his light hair. He had stopped wearing tribal designs, but he still wore that red-tinted jeweled earring in his left ear. He also moved with a lithe, almost deadly grace that Leorio knew could only come after associating with killers like the Ryodan for months on end.

Killua was the last to leave the compartment. He didn't close it all the way. Twiggy's whine floated out from behind wood and frosted glass.

"Why did you back out? We could have taken them on…"

"Yeah, and that was a real Hunter card, too –"

"Idiots! That kid's one of the Geneiryodan! He could have killed us if he wanted to!"

"What? But –"

"Didn't you see his eyes! He's a Kuruta! _The_ Kuruta who's real close with the leader of the Geneiryodan! I hear that he doesn't like to kill, and maybe he'd only wipe the floor with our asses… but _you_ screw with him if you want the leader _and_ the entire Ryodan after your hides!"

Killua and Kurapika were wearing almost identical smirks when the four of them got back to their own train car. Well, Kurapika's was more restrained, but he definitely knew that Killua had left the compartment door slightly open on purpose.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Kurapika asked the assassin.

"Of course. Thanks for putting on such a great show."

Gon had been eerily quiet during the entire spectacle. Now he turned to the blonde, eyes shining in awe. "I didn't know that you're so good at cards, Kurapika. Why didn't you tell us?"

"My thoughts exactly," Leorio muttered.

Kurapika grimaced. "I didn't want you to know. I was cheating, Gon. Being good at cheating is not something to be proud of."

"But they were cheating too, right? They cheated when they played against Leorio, too, and that's why Leorio lost so badly. You only did that to get back at them."

"They were coming at you three to one, too, so it's even," Killua added.

Leorio blinked. It kind of made sense, in a twisted way. But Kurapika was shaking his head, smiling in an affectionate manner. "Okay, so cheating could be the right way to deal with this situation, but never try to do what I just did, all right? I was only able to pull it off because those three were amateurs."

"Where did you learn to play so well, anyway?" Leorio grunted. Now that the danger had passed he could attempt to hide his embarrassment behind a sulk, and he could afford to brood about the unfairness of the fact that Kurapika, just about the most unlikely candidate of them all next to Gon, could be so good at draw poker.

"Believe me, Leorio, when I say that the brand of poker you're used to playing is a walk in the park compared to strip poker."

The implication didn't completely sink in until Killua's grin turned suggestive. Gon, predictably, didn't get it at all. Leorio himself was sputtering, face quickly heating up despite the luxury car's adequate air-conditioning units.

"What? Who –"

Kurapika frowned. He was blushing, too, but only slightly. "Kuroro. He loves tricking me into playing. I can see his traps from a mile away, but I can never seem to avoid them, and I always end up playing – and losing. He doesn't just ask for kisses, either, when I've run out of things to take off…"

"What's strip poker?" Gon asked in the awkward silence that followed Kurapika's explanation.

"It's just like how Kurapika played it, but instead of betting money, players bet on their clothes. Losers have to take something off each time they lose a hand – it can be a watch, a pair of glasses, a T-shirt, or pants, or a skirt. Depending on what the players agree on, games can continue until someone's completely naked," Killua explained.

"Oh."

Leorio watched anxiously, waiting to see how Gon's bright and straightforward outlook on life would interpret the dubious mechanics of strip poker.

"So Leorio was playing strip poker? He _was_ taking his clothes off, wasn't he?"

Leorio gave a discreet cough. Gon was an intelligent young man, really, resourceful, quick-witted, and more insightful than most people would give him credit for, but he was still hopelessly naïve about matters that concerned intimacy and sexuality.

"Ah, not really. Those three probably allowed him to bet on his clothes, after he'd lost his money… Remind me to teach you how to play it sometime. It's a fun game."

Then again, Killua was there to teach him all about the wonders of the adult world. At least, that was what Leorio could see in the fond grin Killua bestowed on the younger boy. He hoped that Killua wouldn't corrupt Gon too much, though, because Leorio had grown to like Gon's naïve impulsiveness, just as he grown to like Killua's cunning and Kurapika's intellect.

Speaking of cunning…

"Wait. You mean you've never won against Kuroro?"

"Yes. It's only against him, though. I play perfectly well against the other Ryodan – at least, Shalnark tells me that my record's better than most. I sort of… use them as training ground to improve my skills. I _still_ lose against Kuroro, and it looks like I'll never win, but if it's against normal people like those three, I'll win no matter how many times I play."

"Right," Leorio muttered. "Remind me never to challenge you at any card game." He also made a mental note to call Kuroro Lucifer on the phone someday and thank him – he had, after all, indirectly helped Leorio by forcing Kurapika to learn how to play poker.

"You're no fun," Killua complained. He pouted, for the moment looking no more than a petulant teenager, but the moment passed and the frown disappeared, to be replaced by a sly, scheming smile. "What if _I_ challenge you, though? Now's a good time as any to teach Gon how to play strip poker. And I've got a pack of playing cards right here!"

Leorio stared in dismay as Killua dug out a plastic case containing the standard fifty-two plastic cards. He wasn't a gambler, and he probably never will be. He'd do well to keep what dignity he had left intact, and pass and just watch Kurapika and Killua slaughter each other from the sidelines.

But then Gon turned puppy-brown eyes to him, saying that it would be more fun with four people, and that they were all friends and wouldn't be mean to continue if anyone was getting trashed, and Leorio knew that he'd never be able to refuse.

All right, they were best friends. It was going to be a harmless game, not potentially disastrous like the last one. Kurapika and Killua, despite being so darned good at it, weren't going to rub it in like the way those three stooges tried to do. And it's not like they hadn't already seen him without his pants on, anyway…

Killua, dead set on coaching Gon through his first strip poker game, decided to hand the dealer position to Kurapika.

Leorio changed his mind about thanking Kuroro. He was going to do his utter best to strangle the man the next time they met.

--- end ---

notes:

It's been years since my last poker game, so I'm not quite sure if I'm doing this right. Feel free to correct me if there are any discrepancies in my explanations.

I also borrowed some dialogue from chapter 42 of Hoshino Katsura's awesome _D.Gray-man_ series. This drabble was actually heavily inspired by the aforementioned chapter – and it wasn't just because Allen Walker looks remarkably like Kurapika. Canon Kurapika wouldn't be so easily tricked into playing strip poker again and again, and he wouldn't cheat so blatantly, but I figured that post-WH Kurapika would have learned that when dealing with a manipulative and drop-dead handsome Kuroro, anything goes – and yes, that includes cheating so Kuroro wouldn't find it so easy to strip him of his clothes.

Finished February 4, 2006.


	4. Perfect Blue

**Title** : Perfect Blue

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email **: cloud121383

**Warnings** : Main pairing is Kuroro/Kurapika... There's also some knifework in here.

**Rating** : PG-13 for adult themes

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter or its characters. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm only a college student.

**A/N **: Not beta-read, and not proofread. It's a bit short though, so there shouldn't be that many errors…

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Kuroro Lucifer didn't know what to think when he came home to find his state-of-the-art kitchen littered with bubbling pots and sizzling pans, the entire area wrapped in an invisible cloud of enticing aromas, and his nineteen-year-old lover in the middle of it all, cooking up a veritable storm of dishes.

"What's all this, then?" he managed to ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Kurapika answered without looking up from the chopping board. "I'm making dinner."

_Thunk_, _thunk_, _thunk_ went the huge chopping knife, Kurapika mincing garlic at a speed even Feitan would be hard-pressed to match. Kuroro watched the boy for a while. There was something… mesmerizing about the blade's up-and-down movement, and the intense focus that Kurapika was devoting to butchering the poor condiment only added to the stirring picture Kuroro could see from his position by the kitchen counter…

"Don't look at me like that," Kurapika warned. He held the knife up, and the tip gleamed wickedly in the light streaming in through the kitchen's windows. "I'd like to finish this within the next hour, so don't try anything funny."

Kuroro blinked and halted in mid-step. He had been about to swoop in for his afternoon kiss, but Kurapika had read his mind – or at least, the part that had been thinking about the merits of taking the Kuruta right there on the kitchen counter, among the other delectable ingredients that he had so painstakingly lain out…

But back on the "painstaking" part. The boy looked serious this time. He'd probably make Kuroro sleep on the couch again if his orders were disobeyed. And that knife looked really sharp. Kuroro decided that it would be best if he backed away.

For now.

"How many dishes are you cooking?" he asked, to show Kurapika that he wasn't going to do anything.

"A full course."

Strange. The blonde cooked well enough, but he usually left the more elaborate spreads to his partner. Kuroro was the better chef between the two of them; he had more experience, and had developed the instincts that good chefs used to improvise on-the-spot, substitute ingredients, or create new recipes even without guidelines.

Kurapika, on the other hand, tended to rely heavily on cookbooks. He followed instructions to the letter and meticulously prepared and measured ingredients before the actual cooking. Being precise wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but his method was too rigid to adapt to sudden changes in the cooking process. One ingredient out of place, one cooking utensil missing, or one spice measured wrong meant instant disaster for any dish in the blonde's hands, which was why he had never tried to cook more than two dishes at once. Considering Kurapika's fastidiousness, the level of coordination he'd need to prepare for a full course would have to be mind-boggling.

The boy seemed to be doing quite well, though. There was a ceramic pot on the stove, boiling stock for a soup, and a stew pot beside it. Half of the counter was covered with little glass bowls filled with various spices and condiments, grouped and lined according to the dishes they would go into and the order that they would be added. Kurapika was chopping ingredients for a stir fry or an appetizer, and from what Kuroro could see of the utensils already in the kitchen sink, he had finished with the dessert and was probably cooling it in the refrigerator.

Kuroro still didn't know the reason for the flurry of activity. He wondered why Kurapika didn't ask for his help. Then he remembered the date, and understood. Today was September 4. It was on this day two years ago that they had met in York Shin City.

He continued to watch Kurapika for a few moments, gauging the blonde's mood. September 4 didn't exactly hold pleasant memories for the younger man, certainly nothing that would warrant a celebratory dinner, but that event had led them to where they were now. If not for that meeting, Kurapika would still be living in the past, with the darkness and sadness and hatred that his past brought to him. He would still be working for Nostrad, wasting his potential on that two-bit businessman and his self-centered daughter.

"Do you need help with anything?"

"Check the stew for me, please. It should be almost ready for plating."

Kuroro moved to the stove and put on an oven mitt to avoid getting burned. The stew pot was covered, but he could hear its contents bubbling vigorously. It was probably a vegetable stew – the earthy smell of mushrooms wafted from it. He removed the cover, and started in surprise. For a second he stopped and thought of how to best describe the problem he was seeing, but then he realized that the lame and blunt would probably work best.

"Kurapika. Your stew. It's blue."

"It most certainly is not… What…?"

It _was_ a vegetable stew – there were baby potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, greens, and delicately-sliced pieces of meat. But the stew sauce's color should be light brown. The stew Kurapika was cooking was a pastel bluish-gray.

"What happened here?" Kurapika asked dumbly.

Kuroro lowered the heat to reduce the bubbling. He examined the ingredients closely. He recognized the recipe; he remembered cooking it a few weeks ago. It wasn't an overly complex recipe, and knowing how closely Kurapika followed cookbook instructions, there shouldn't have been any way that he could botch it this spectacularly. Kuroro reached for a clean spoon and scooped one of the mushrooms out of the pot.

"You used Swiss mushrooms for this?"

"Yes."

Kuroro stared at the mushroom on his spoon. "But this isn't a Swiss. It looks like a Rainbow Cap mushroom."

Kurapika frowned. "Rainbow Cap…?"

Kuroro had to restrain himself from fawning over how adorably confused Kurapika looked just then. For someone who loved eating umbrella-shaped fungi, the blonde didn't know much about the different varieties of mushrooms. "Rainbow Caps are very similar to Swiss mushrooms in appearance. Only, like cuttlefish and chameleons, they change color in response to their surroundings. They're edible, but they'll secrete differently-colored liquids depending on the temperature at which they are cooked." Kuroro paused. "You must have been stewing this at a low temperature for a long time for it to get to this color."

"I started this one an hour ago," Kurapika replied faintly. "I don't understand. I just did what was written in that cookbook. I bought all the ingredients from the grocery down the street."

"Ah. That one. Their Swiss and Rainbow Caps are displayed side-by-side," Kuroro explained. He went to that particular grocery often, and he remembered the layout of the shelves quite well. "The labels on the trays could have been switched by mistake."

"By mistake," Kurapika echoed. "What am I going to do now?"

The blonde was understandably dismayed. The stew looked strange, and it was certainly not something you'd find on gourmet restaurant menus. But it smelled all right. Kuroro could also tell from a glance that none of the ingredients had been spoiled.

"I'll have to throw this away." Kurapika forced himself to smile at Kuroro. "I'm sorry, but is it all right if dinner's late? I still have time to run down to the grocery, and make another batch…"

"Wait." Kuroro couldn't stand seeing that pained smile, couldn't stand feeling his partner's disappointment and shame at failing at a task that should have been easy enough to finish. He wasn't going to let Kurapika throw all his hard work away, not without tasting the stew for himself.

"Kuroro, maybe you shouldn't…" Kurapika's protest trailed off to nervous silence as Kuroro popped the spoonful of blue stew into his mouth.

He chewed slowly, watching his lover's anxious blue eyes the entire time. If not for those eyes and the secret heritage that they concealed, Kuroro would probably be traveling the world, prowling the underground for artifacts and antiques, orchestrating the Geneiryodan's annual raids on the world's filthy rich. The missions still continued, but Kuroro had been doing less and less prowling, now that he'd found someone to return to.

Kuroro smiled. The stew tasted fine. "It's perfect."

He didn't mind celebrating September 4, because he fully understood what meeting Kurapika had done for him. And from Kurapika's delighted grin, he could tell that the blonde felt exactly the same way.

--- end ---

notes:

Swiss mushrooms are real. Rainbow Cap mushrooms are not. I invoked a bit of artistic license and invented that particular specie just for this drabble.

Finished May 23, 2006.


	5. Candied Kiss

**Title** : Candied Kiss

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email **: cloud121383

**Warnings** : Main pairing is Kuroro/Kurapika.

**Rating** : PG-13 for adult themes

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter or its characters. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm a jobless college graduate.

**A/N **: Not beta-read, and not proofread. This is just something silly I cooked up after spending four days without electricity.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

"Cancelled."

The girl seated behind the counter blushed, ducked her head, and tried to catch the eyes of any of her fellow stewardesses, but they were all similarly engaged with their own queues, and all seemed to be trying very hard not to look in her direction. The cause of their unease was most likely the privileged status of the customer in front of her, though she wondered if a large part wasn't also due to his very handsome features –

"Yes, sir," she managed to answer. "All the flights from and to this airport have been delayed, or cancelled until further notice. The incoming typhoon has top speeds of over two hundred seventy kilometers per hour, and aviation authorities have deemed it necessary that all airlines suspend their operations until it is safe for their planes to fly again."

She felt a quiet sense of thrill that she had actually gotten through the long explanation without stumbling even once, and something else that she would later identify as a hysterical, reckless abandon. But it wasn't over yet, the man she was entertaining was still standing there, with a slight frown of discontent flashing from his dark eyes.

"I suppose it was unavoidable, but your airline should have contacted us about the change before we left our hotel."

"I'm truly sorry, sir," the girl squeaked. "The phone lines aren't working properly. We've received news that several communications towers in the eastern regions have collapsed due to the onslaught of the storm. I'm certain that someone has attempted to reach you through your mobile phone, but probably couldn't connect."

"There's nothing to be done about it, then," the man muttered.

The girl struggled not to sink down into the hollow space of the counter in embarrassment. She knew that she was doing well – it wasn't everyday that she had to entertain customers holding genuine Hunter licenses, but she had experience handling people from the high end of society. It was why she had been assigned to the business-class counter in the first place.

Her headphone squawked into her ears. It was her supervisor, agitatedly murmuring advice to her from his place in their administration office. No doubt he was watching them closely on a security camera. That was it, the cause of all her added anxiety. He had suddenly contacted her through her headphones, telling her to be especially careful with how she treated this particular customer. In no way was she allowed to cause him to get annoyed with their company, he said.

The man stayed silent for a few moments, appearing to mull over his situation. He was obviously not affected by all the noise and confusion surrounding him. All the other passengers crowding the airport terminal looked harried, impatient, and understandably frustrated with their cancelled flights, and he alone seemed unruffled and unconcerned. Perhaps just mildly disgruntled, but not the least bit threatening or irate, so she couldn't understand why her supervisor was so afraid of angering him.

She swept her eyes over the two Hunter licenses on the lacquered top of the counter while she waited for the man to speak. There were no names, not even ID pictures, just identification numbers, lines of tiny text proclaiming the wielders to be bona fide Hunters, and the large black X's that boldly adorned half of one side of the cards. Surreptitiously she tapped a few keys, and had her computer connect to the Hunter Association's database. Security prevented her from going in too deep, but all airlines could access the list of known Hunters for purposes of identity verification. With a few more keystrokes she easily pulled up the files that corresponded to the identification numbers on the cards, and she curiously scrutinized the scant information on the screen.

Kuroro Lucifer, she read silently. He was a legitimate Hunter, because the dark hair and dark eyes of the face on the picture clearly belonged to her customer. His name and his appearance, those were the only concrete facts she could glean from the file – all the other information had been labeled "confidential".

Well. That was unhelpful. She pulled up the second file, only to find it in a similar state, the single word "Kurapika" on the name field, the picture of a young man with blond hair and blue eyes, and "confidential" stamped all over the screen. She took another glance at Mr. Lucifer, and found him wearing a look of resignation. All the secrecy certainly had an ominous ring to it, but she was more intrigued rather than frightened. There wasn't a visible reason why her supervisor would be so cautious…

"All right," Mr. Lucifer finally sighed. "Do you have any idea when our flight is going to be rescheduled?"

She snapped out of her musings to reply, "Nothing definitive, sir. Until after the storm has passed, that much I can assure you. The soonest would be tonight, my supervisor tells me."

"And can you suggest what we're going to do until then?"

She gaped. That was the last thing she expected to be asked. Rich people had their own way of doing things, none ever asked her to tell them how to spend their time. "W-we have excellent facilities to help ensure your comfort while you wait, sir. There's the business lounge, the spa, the first-class hotel connected to our airport for layover passengers, the restaurants and the duty-free shops located on the lower and the middle levels…" Her mind blanked out as she struggled to recall _all_ of the enormous airport's facilities. Instead she said faintly, "I could send for someone if you have need for a guide."

"It's fine," he said, shaking his head to refuse the offer. "I think we have more than enough time to grope our way around the place." He looked behind him, as if seeking for someone particular in the crowd of waiting passengers. Unable to contain her growing curiosity, the girl also tried to look along his line of sight, and spotted the blonde from the second picture, seated at one of the benches scattered around the check-in area. The two men held gazes for a few seconds – the girl swore that she saw the blonde nod – then Kuroro Lucifer turned back to her.

"I think we'll look around for a bit. Is there anything else we need to do?" he asked.

"If you would just check the announcement boards every once in a while, sir, in case there are changes to your flight's status," she replied quickly – and would have said as much even without her supervisor's tinny voice prompting her through her headphones. "And please do not hesitate to approach our desks for any concerns or questions."

"Okay. Thank you for your time." The dark-haired man retrieved both Hunter license cards, then turned to leave.

"Sir, wait!"

Mr. Lucifer blinked and stopped. The girl reddened as his focus returned to her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her supervisor sprinting toward her counter, having run out of his office the moment after he had told her of one final thing they had to give to their intriguing guests. He reached them after a few seconds, flustered and out-of-breath. He held out two white envelopes for the girl to give to the Hunter license holder.

"There are complimentary coupons in these envelopes, sir. If you show these coupons to stores or restaurants of your choosing, you will receive free items or meals," the supervisor explained after he had drawn several deep breaths. "Please avail of them, sir, it is the least our company can do after having delayed your flight."

"Really?" Lucifer drawled. "We should get delayed more often if it means getting freebies." He gestured to something on the counter that the two on the other side couldn't see. "And these, are these complimentary, too?"

He was pointing at the bowl of brightly-colored hard candies that all the check-in counters offered to airline passengers.

"Of course, sir!" The supervisor was all but jumping around in his desire to please. The girl was irresistibly reminded of a dog eagerly wagging its tail. "Please, take as many as you want!"

Plastic crinkled as Kuroro Lucifer reached in and helped himself from the bowl. "Two is enough, thank you." Then he directed a charming smile at the girl who had attended to him – for the next few days, making her the object of much jealousy from her co-workers, who had actually been following the proceedings keenly even though they had strived to look as if they were keeping their attention elsewhere – and walked away.

----------

"What was that about?" Kurapika asked as Kuroro sauntered back to him.

"Just making use of some of the perks we have."

Kurapika frowned disapprovingly. "You abuse your privileges far too shamelessly."

Kuroro smiled. He could see that the blonde was feeling peevish, perhaps disconcerted by all the people milling around. It was for that reason he had stayed behind on the bench instead of accompanying Kuroro to the check-in counter – he couldn't stand being hemmed in by the long lines of passengers waiting for their turn to complain to the harassed ground crew attendants.

"What are these cards for, if not for us to use them?"

"And this coming from the man who stubbornly refused to take the exam until I forced him to," Kurapika muttered.

Kuroro laughed. He was in too good of a mood to let the suffocating air of discontent in the airport affect him. He unwrapped one of the candies he had taken from the check-in counter and popped the sweet into his mouth.

"At least you didn't take the entire bowl," the blonde conceded grudgingly. He stood up and stretched, and reached for their hand-carried luggage, which he had placed on the floor – and the gears in Kuroro's mind suddenly surged forward, giving rise to an idea that he was sure would cheer his companion up in no time.

Kurapika's hands were occupied with their things, and couldn't push him away even if Kuroro let him, so the taller man quickly leaned in and took advantage of the constraint. He pressed his lips to the blonde's, completely disregarding the fact that they were in a very public area. Predictably, the younger man gasped at the sudden contact, and his mouth opened (without his permission, Kurapika would swear whenever something similar happened) to welcome the intrusion. Instead of deepening the kiss, though, Kuroro simply pushed the piece of candy in, and stepped away.

The boy was blushing. Kuroro loved how even something so quick and simple could fluster the Kuruta so. He looked around; no one had seen them, everyone was too busy worrying about their own problems. Kurapika wouldn't have cause to complain. He smirked and unwrapped the second fruit-flavored candy, and tried not to grimace when the sourness hit his taste buds.

"Lemon." Kuroro rolled the confection around with his tongue to let himself get used to the taste. He leered at the blonde. "What's yours?"

"_You_ already know," the blonde grumbled, but the heat had left his voice, and his face was still flushed. He sighed and let the matter drop. A year ago he would have berated the older man for taking advantage of him (and in plain sight of anyone watching, too!) but he had had enough time to get used to Kuroro's spontaneity. "I heard everything. So where to, now?"

"It's still too early for lunch. I was thinking that we could hit the bookstores first – I saw at least half a dozen on the way here."

At the mention of books, Kurapika immediately perked up. They hadn't counted on the storm coming and delaying their flight for so long, and he was worried that his partner's sensitive nature would get affected by all the negativity of the other passengers. But Kuroro's surprise kiss had distracted him from the crowds, and now the blonde wouldn't be able to resist exploring the vast airport.

They left the check-in area, two calm presences amidst the turmoil of the inevitable blackout, and prepared to spend the rest of the day drifting among the various establishments housed within the airport. Kuroro hoped that they would have time to stop by the spa the clerk had mentioned. Maybe he could ask for a private room…

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Additional notes:

Initially I wanted to write something about what Kuroro and Kurapika would do if they got stuck in a country-wide power blackout – but then I realized that they wouldn't just sit around for the power to return, they'd do something about it. Kuroro would probably go get a super!generator, no matter how expensive it is, or suggest that they stay at a place that _has_ power – so wondering about what they might do to escape the boredom of having nothing to do is a moot point.

Finished October 3, 2006.


	6. Non interference

**Title** : Non-interference

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email **: cloud121383

**Warnings** : It should be obvious by now, shouldn't it? If it's a drabble from me, it's most certainly Kuroro/Kurapika unless I say otherwise. Oh, and I went out on a limb and snatched a bit of storyline from the Chimera Ant arc in the manga. As far as I know it's not finished yet, so I invented some sort of resolution for the entire fiasco, too. There be minor spoilers here for anyone who hasn't read that far yet.

**Rating** : PG-13 for adult themes, swearing, and a bit of OOC-ness.

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter or its characters. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm a jobless college graduate.

**A/N **: This is set a few years after WH, and is part of my series of drabbles that describe Kuroro as being a licensed Hunter. So go ahead and assume that he and Kurapika are happily living together, and that they occasionally take Hunter Association assignments as a pair. :3

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The Hunter Association was, by nature of the legislations and decrees stipulated in its charter, an entirely neutral organization. It favored no nation, or race, specie, or political or religious faction. Its sole purpose was to hold the Hunter Examinations, the often-fatal series of certifications whose graduates would summarily be given the financial and social status of dignitaries, with no regard for their background, or the potential consequences should a graduate have less-than-savory plans for his new privileges. Such power was tempting, and even with its policy of political non-interference, it wasn't unheard of for individuals or nations to try to coerce or bribe the officials of the Association in an attempt to buy the group's influence.

Unluckily for them, whoever held the seat of the chairman would always be made of stronger moral fiber than most leaders. The Chairman was usually selected from the small pool of Three-starred Hunters – those who had managed to gain great power, and had accomplished incredible feats in their respective fields. Usually only members who had positively-oriented goals – goals along the lines of preservation and protection, for instance, were the ones who got promoted to three-star. Weaker-willed people, such as the ones who sought to become Hunters because of malicious or selfish purposes often never rise beyond the two-star level; they were just too self-centered to even think of contributing anything to society. That was how the Association had managed to get wise and powerful chairmen so far – wise, meaning men who knew that it was in everyone's best interests that such an influential organization remain neutral and unattached to any particular party; and powerful, meaning that they had enough political clout to keep things that way, and enough physical power to "dissuade" anyone looking to force things to look _their_ way.

Chairman Netero and his current board of advisers were no different. They stayed well away from political intrigue and cultural squabbles. They lived to make sure that the yearly exams were conducted smoothly, and for the rest of the year they pursued their own Hunter-related activities. The advisers were Hunters, too – Two and Three-starred, with a few One-stars to even out the mix, so it was to be expected that they had their own careers to follow. Perhaps the only Association official who had to deal with politics was old man Netero – he had his Hunter field, of course, but his lofty position also meant that he had to deal with the endless requests for intervention or aid from squabbling countries or disaster-struck regions.

It was a difficult job, having the power but not being free to use it whenever he wished. The Hunter Association wasn't a charity; they couldn't just spend funds to send relief with each new request. The best that he could do was to summon Hunters and ask if they were willing to lend their help to the ailing countries – his Hunters had final say in the matter. Anything less than a worldwide catastrophe didn't warrant the full deployment of the Association's members. The last time that such a thing had happened was the recent Chimera Ant incident, when entire species were in danger of being wiped out by the cannibalistic Ants, and even Netero himself had stepped forward to challenge the Ant King. It was a disaster; the Ant Generals had been too powerful for Pro, even One-star Hunters to handle, and several had been killed and eaten in the line of duty. It would take at least a dozen years of Exams to restock the depleted ranks of Hunters in the NGL area.

But for all the threat that the Chimera Ants posed, once the situation was resolved, the world bounced back to its normal course with its usual versatility. People dealt with their losses and went on with their lives. The NGL states got a new government, one more capable and less corrupt than its predecessor. The Chimera Ants who had attained a high enough level of consciousness to agree to stop killing wantonly were resettled in unpopulated areas where they would do no harm to humans. The names of all the Hunters who helped or participated in the offensive, even those who were killed, were put up for promotion to a higher star level, and Chairman Netero went back to his administrative duties, which consisted more and more of denying requests from countries soliciting aid from the organization that was being credited for single-handedly eliminating the Chimera Ant threat. They could handle their problems by themselves, Netero and his board of advisers agreed.

Of course, if a request was reasonable, and if the consequences of refusing to intervene would be less than desirable, then they could relax the rules a bit and agree to help. Acting as an arbitrator between two warring clans, for example, would seem like too unimportant a job for the Chairman himself, if not for the fact that the two clans were made up entirely of opposing sexes. If a good treaty wasn't drafted and signed, the dispute might erupt into a full-scale gender war, one that had the potential to draw in men and women from around the world. The issue was well-publicized, and activist groups supporting either one of the two clans were just itching for the chance to jump in and agitate already-muddled waters. Helping to resolve an age-long blood feud between a clan that was composed entirely of women, and another that was made up only of men was a worthy cause, and one – Netero secretly thought – that would provide for many interesting scenarios.

"Chairman, I don't think that holding a social ball before the treaty signing was a good idea…"

Netero looked down at his diminutive assistant, who was nervously wringing his hands and anxiously looking back and forth between the representatives from the feuding clans. He supposed that the little guy had reason to look like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown; the representatives were firmly ensconced at tables on opposite sides of the ballroom, as far away from each other as was geographically possible in the large room. The tension in the air was thick enough to be felt even by the most dull-witted of the attendants, and the representatives weren't being discreet with the suspicious glares they were throwing each other across the room.

"I know that your purpose was to get the representatives to loosen up and possibly mingle with each other," the secretary continued, "but couldn't you have considered holding a less social event, like a tour of the city, or a boring lecture, or a –"

Netero clucked his tongue. "Mameso, really. You would leave our guests with the impression that the Hunter Association doesn't know how to host great parties. Dinner and dancing is always a good way to defuse tensions before a treaty signing."

"You should have held the treaty signing _before_ dinner and dancing," Mameso muttered unhappily, unappeased by his reassurance.

Netero chose not to reply – he knew that his assistant was correct in this case. Celebrations were often held _after_ a treaty signing, not before. And a social dance where men and women had to pair up to take to the dance floor was definitely not the best activity that he could have recommended to the Association's current set of guests, what with their issues and obvious aversion to their counterparts. Perhaps the only reason why both parties hadn't lunged for each others' throats yet was because of the Hunters Netero had specifically summoned for this particular event. They were mingling with the guests, giving off the sense that the Association was in total control, and keeping everyone calm and level-headed enough to mind themselves.

So as not to set off anyone still mulish enough to mind any other arrangement, he had given strict orders on how his Hunters were to make their rounds – ladies with the ladies, and the men sticking to the male-only clan. Three to each side, which was the most that he managed to summon on short notice, post-Chimera Ant, plus one more who was… well, androgynous enough to be mistaken for either sex, who also happened to be skilled enough, diplomatically, to act as a temporary go-between for the two groups before the formal ceremonies were to begin.

Netero wanted to tell Mameso to look at their Hunters, who were doing admirable jobs of keeping everyone under control. Nothing bad had happened yet, after all. Still, it was probably time to start preparing the stage for the treaty signing…

He ambled over to the left side of the ballroom, where most of the women had congregated, and twinkled happily at anyone who looked his way. The twinkling usually put off anyone who didn't know him personally, and that meant everyone in the ballroom except his assistants and the other Hunters. Any guest who wanted to voice his or her opinion about the banquet arrangements thus didn't dare approach the crazy old man who kept smiling, and Netero wouldn't have to deal with them until the treaty signing, when he had to address the leaders of both parties face-to-face.

"Chairman Netero, don't smile like that. You're scaring everyone witless," someone chided him from behind.

Netero turned around and beamed even more widely. "Kurapika! Just the person I was looking for."

The boy looked stunning in formal evening clothes of deep black. He probably looked intimidating, too, Netero amended to himself as the Kuruta frowned at him. Not that a One-star Hunter would be able to intimidate the Chairman himself, but Kurapika's frown, added to his flashing blue eyes and the all-black outfit, would send anyone less stout-hearted scurrying out of his way, just as the Chairman's twinkling would make anyone feel like looking out for banana peels on the floor or buckets filled with vile substances suspended over doorways.

"Dear boy, don't frown like that. You'll scare the guests away," Netero gently scolded, throwing Kurapika's earlier words back at him.

"Don't start, sir. And don't think I haven't noticed the ambivalence of my assignment as compared to those of my colleagues."

Netero affected a shocked expression. "I'm hurt that you would think me duplicitous enough to come up with such an ingenious idea," he lamented.

Kurapika's right eye twitched – that was the only sign of his internal struggle to control his emotions as he smoothed his frown away. "Well, sir? What did you want me for?" he murmured deferentially.

"Despite all our efforts to bring these two clans together the atmosphere here still seems a bit too tense, don't you think?" Netero started to say.

"It can't be helped. You can't expect these people to just let go of their blood feud in a span of a few days."

A reasonable explanation, but not really the response Netero was waiting for. "And the dance floor is empty. The band has been playing wonderfully for an hour now, but no one's gotten up to dance yet," he prompted.

"What do you want us to do, grab random people and shove them at each other on the dance floor?"

Netero raised an eyebrow at the boy's exasperation. It seemed that not only Mameso was feeling the strain of keeping the event on track.

"Your attempt at humor is noted, but no, that's not quite what I wanted," he replied. "I've heard somewhere that you and your partner are quite the dancers."

Netero had expected Kurapika to become flustered and to stammer a denial, as what most people were wont to do when faced with such a statement. What he wasn't expecting was for the boy to turn completely passive. Not even a trace of his earlier frown remained.

"Where did you… hear that?" Kurapika asked carefully.

"A Hunter named Bashou."

A beat.

"He said that you two moved well together."

Kurapika blinked. "But I haven't seen Bashou since…" the boy trailed off as some sort of understanding dawned on him. "I'm afraid you're mistaken," he said apologetically after a short pause. "He saw us fight together. I'll admit that we work well enough as a pair, but I don't think –"

"Nonsense," Netero interrupted, happy enough with just the admission. "Ballroom dancing is all about trust and improvisation and moving well together. If you were as synchronized all those years ago as Mr. Bashou had led me to believe, then I see no reason why you wouldn't be able to manage now."

"But fighting and dancing are two entirely different –"

"Not much different. They're both about steps and stances, aren't they? And don't try to tell me that you don't know how to dance. I know that Mr. Lucifer had taught you how to waltz, at the very least."

It was a lie – he didn't really know if the Kuruta knew how to dance, but his older partner seemed to be the type to know how to dominate a dance floor just for the heck of it. He would also hazard a guess that the man might have taught Kurapika the basics – if not for the cultural and educational value of the activity, then for the potential that it had to lead to more… intimate… positions.

Netero's eyes doubled their twinkling when Kurapika didn't say anything to deny his claim.

"I'm not going to give him any more satisfaction out of this," the blonde growled. "He's already gotten enough kicks just watching me get mistaken for a girl."

Netero grinned slyly as he prepared to drop his bombshell – his moustache and long beard covered most of his lower face, fortunately, so the boy couldn't tell what he was planning.

"Would it help you to decide, then," he said innocently, "if I told you that Mr. Lucifer was the one who suggested you for the liaison assignment?"

Another beat.

"He didn't."

Netero nodded sagely, like someone confirming a universal truth. At that the boy's eyes started to narrow, and his eyebrows slowly drew together and down, like two thunderclouds converging upon an unsuspecting village – and Netero decided that the wisest decision at this point would be to beat a hasty retreat.

If anyone watching him wondered why he chose such a long and winding escape route back to his place in the front tables, so that he passed by the platform where the band was situated, he'd just twinkle at them and jovially declare that it was a happy coincidence. Nor was it anything out of the ordinary for the Chairman to stop for a few seconds to mutter a few choice instructions to the attentive band members…

By that time people had begun to notice that the Hunter assigned as the liaison had abandoned his post. Kurapika couldn't have chosen a better way to attract everyone's attention – he was stalking, cutting a direct path right into what the participants of the event had started to think of as the "neutral zone," the middle of the ballroom where a hardwood floor had been set up for dancing, and the only spot that remained untouched by anyone from either of the two feuding clans since the night began.

The sudden interest may also have been due to the abrupt shift in the music the band had been playing up until now – they let the soft strains of the waltz piece they were playing drift off, and, just as Kurapika stepped onto the hardwood tiles, smoothly segued into a complicated piece that was definitely not written for an easy waltz.

The Kuruta's eyes snapped to the side and his steps faltered for just the briefest moment, as he saw the Chairman standing beside the band. Netero could see that the boy recognized the beat of the new piece immediately, and he also caught the glare that Kurapika shot at him. He was actually surprised that the Scarlet Eyes hadn't triggered; Kurapika looked mad enough to kill. Unfortunately for the boy, he had no choice but to move forward – the atmosphere in the ballroom had turned expectant, and everyone was waiting to see what he was going to do. If he backed off now with the band playing the beginning strings of what sounded to be an interesting number, the tense air from before would return, and this time it would be made heavier by disappointment and ridicule.

"Only one thing to do to get this thing over with, then," Netero could almost hear the boy thinking, and as the band's pianist drummed the lower keys in a slow, heavy rhythm interspersed with one-second pauses, Kurapika began to _prowl_ – that was the only word that could possibly describe the way he walked towards the middle of the hardwood dance floor, feet moving deliberately forward in time with the music. His eyes were locked on to someone on the other side of the ballroom, one of the Hunters who had been assigned to the all-male clan, one Kuroro Lucifer who was currently blinking bemusedly at the intensity of the gaze the blonde was directing at him.

His confusion instantly vanished, though, when Kurapika stopped, poised with left leg bent forward and toes pointed down, and in one sinuous motion raised his right arm, crooked his elbow and curled his fingers one by one, starting from the pinkie and ending with the index finger, in a come-hither gesture. The predatory look Kuroro sent back _then_, as he walked out into the neutral zone to meet the smaller blonde, was enough to make every red-blooded female in the ballroom swoon over their tables.

Not to be outdone, Kurapika answered in kind. They reached the middle of the dance floor and circled each other for a couple of beats, looking like rivals sizing each other for weaknesses, then Kurapika reached out and very lightly rested the tips of his fingers against Kuroro's chest. The contact was brief, fleeting and teasing, and executed with enough feminine grace and seduction to drive anyone with even the smallest smidgen of testosterone crazy.

And that was just the prelude – the violin and bandoneon players hadn't even started with the main body of the tango piece yet.

Two synchronized walks, two dramatic dips, one molinete and another media luna simultaneously performed with intricate grapevining steps, eight graceful twirls, two high kicks, plus two more gancho and two highly dubious poses that would have netted Kuroro at least three sexual harassment charges had he been doing the actions out in the real world, and one quick sacada and four flawless cambios later, Netero got his wish. The tense and apprehensive atmosphere from before had completely disappeared. All of the guests were too flushed or too flustered, or too fired up to think straight. Half of those were giving each other calculating looks across the expanse of the ballroom – Netero could see a few of the more daring women eyeing some of the more handsome men hungrily.

He couldn't blame them. That performance was like sex on hardwood. The fact that Kuroro and Kurapika were both men hadn't seemed to make much of a difference – actually, the remaining half of the guests were openly salivating after either of the two dancers, who had retreated to the entrance of the ballroom, far enough from the tables to avoid mingling with anyone seeking to talk to them after their dance, and close enough to one of the main exits that they could escape immediately if they had to.

Netero beamed and thanked the members of the band for doing an excellent job of choosing the right song. Something about the beat of the music had drawn the normally-reticent Kurapika into initiating the dance, after all. The fact that he had shamelessly manipulated his Hunters into performing didn't worry him too much; should Kurapika still feel inclined to chew him out for forcing him into a situation where he couldn't refuse the request to dance, Netero would just point out that they had achieved their objective. He was sure that the boy would understand.

He was also certain that Kuroro Lucifer would defend his partner's honor ferociously should any of the male guests attempt anything foolhardy.

Just to be sure, though, maybe he should double the fees that they would be paying the pair after everything was over and done with.

Netero found Mameso hovering anxiously behind the podium. It seemed as if the little assistant had wanted to step out and restrain the Chairman from pulling any more of his crazy stunts, but hadn't dared to leave the relative safety of the dais.

Mameso heaved a big sigh upon seeing the Chairman return to his proper station. "Chairman, it wouldn't hurt you to think twice before doing anything that deviates from your formal duties," he admonished.

"What? I _am_ thinking twice."

"No you aren't. You know that these two clans have extremely traditional and old-fashioned mindsets towards relationships and courtship. What are you going to do if someone attempts to ask after Kuroro or Kurapika?"

Netero twinkled happily. "Firmly decline, of course. We have policies of non-interference with regards to our Hunters' personal lives."

Mameso sighed again, this time in frustration. "You're missing the point. You could give insult by refusing…"

"Not a problem," Netero replied mildly. "Our guests should know better than anyone how difficult it is to obtain our assistance. They wouldn't dare to make demands of that nature, or they would risk us backing out even before their treaty could be signed."

Mameso winced at the direct threat that his superior was thinking of using as a foil for the problem he had raised. "Chairman…"

"Nevermind that. Come on, it's time to get the treaty signing under way. Let's do it now, while they're all distracted!"

"What?!"

--------------------

"Damn you both."

Kuroro Lucifer blinked and looked down at his younger partner, who seemed to be doing his best to sink into the shadows of the curtained wall of the ballroom.

"What did you say?"

"You. Chairman Netero. Manipulative bastards, the both of you," Kurapika grumbled.

"Why? What did he do?"

"Tricked me into dancing… What was he trying to do, anyway? I had no idea that an old man like him had such voyeuristic tastes."

Kuroro chuckled at Kurapika's obvious disgruntlement. "I don't think it's that. Look," he said, nodding at the sudden flurry of activity around the dais in front of the ballroom.

Kurapika frowned in confusion. "Are they… starting with the treaty signing? But the ceremony's at least an hour away!"

"He might have planned on doing this from the very beginning."

"What?"

"I think the old man's going to take advantage of the distraction we've caused in the wake of our little performance."

Kurapika stared at the scene in disbelief. "You mean get the clan representatives to sign while they're distracted and unable to think clearly?"

"He would probably prefer to call it an example of what they can experience together if they put aside their blood feud once and for all," Kuroro replied, then paused for a moment as he considered the first explanation. "Although, yes, he was probably aiming for that as well."

"But that's not proper!" the blonde protested in scandalized horror.

"Think of it this way. In their present state they would probably be too fuddled to raise protests or ask for unreasonable conditions while they're signing the treaty. It's not as if we're tricking them into agreeing with something they didn't want in the first place."

Kurapika would know that – he had read the documents carefully, in case anyone from either clan asked for details – and he had already commented earlier on that the conditions were fair and agreeable to both parties.

"Well… it still feels wrong to involve us," he hedged.

"It depends on how you look at it," Kuroro remarked. He casually pushed at a fold of the curtain as if to move it out of his view of the ballroom, instead disturbing the fabric so that it formed a little niche where Kurapika could shrink in even further if he wanted to – and he did. Kuroro smiled and shifted so that the Kuruta was hidden from the ogling eyes of the guests.

"Of course, _you'd_ look at it loosely," Kurapika grumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the thick fabric of the curtain.

"But don't you agree that it could be a very effective tactic when used the right way?" Kuroro asked, before bending down to nuzzle the back of Kurapika's neck, just above the standing collar of his coat. "You distract your opponent, cause him to lose his focus, keep him preoccupied and make him forget about any concerns he might have…"

Kurapika did end up forgetting about why he got angry in the first place, at least, until everything was over and done with, and Netero reminded him by presenting him double of what his normal fee should have been. Fortunately for Kuroro, his method of distraction had already worn away most of Kurapika's bad humor. He had to tread lightly for the next couple of hours before the blonde's mood went back to normal, but that was already a very light punishment.

_Anything_ was preferable to the Kuruta's own adaptation of the Association's policy of non-interference.

--- end ---

Sharp-eyed readers would probably spot the Bashou reference, which matches to a specific scene in chapter 20 of WH. :3 I'd posted this on my LiveJournal way back in January, but figured that I should also post it here for anyone who hasn't read it yet. The connection would be much more meaningful now that I'd finished with chapter 20.

"Sex on hardwood" – not my quote. It certainly doesn't sound like anything Netero would think of, either. XD I got that from the movie that inspired this. And I based Netero's character somewhat on twinkly!Dumbledore. He's a bit off his rocker, and might seem happily harmless, but actually has lots of crazy pranks hidden up his sleeve. (And who was it who asked for fanboy!Netero…?)

I may have been trying to make a point with the Hunter Association policy of non-interference introduction, but halfway through the drabble I kind of lost it. And the dance scene. Why did I write a strange dance scene? I think it was because I wanted to convey the gaped-mouth, eyes glazed-over reaction that I had after seeing the sexy tango scene between Pierre and Morgan in the movie _Take the Lead_ for the first time, (imagine the clan representatives absent-mindedly signing the treaty because they were too busy being outraged/turned-on by Kuroro shamelessly molesting Kurapika on the dance floor) but I found out that said sequence doesn't translate well on paper – especially since I'm having two guys doing it. By then it was too late, and I didn't know what to do to salvage the long intro I'd written, so I just plunged ahead and finished it.

… If you absolutely can't imagine Kurapika being the follower in a tango sequence, think back to when you first read the Hunter X Hunter manga. There's a fifty percent chance that you were one of those who weren't sure if he was a girl or a guy until you got to his cross-dressing scene in the York Shin arc. Then imagine him wearing something straight out of CLAMP's uniform designs – black and form-fitting and really elegant and imperial, maybe with a silk sash down the side to simulate a skirt when he's executing the sharper moves.

Oh, and speaking of dance moves – I don't know anything about ballroom dancing, aside from the lessons I took in PE back in second year college. The tango moves I threw out here, I got from Wikipedia's article on Argentine Tango. Ballroom dancing buffs, please don't kill me.

Finished January 3, 2007.


	7. Christmas

**Title** : Christmas

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email** : cloud121383

**Warnings** : Kuroro/Kurapika slash warning, one or two lewd jokes, swearing, blatant disregard of the canon characterizations, and major fluff between the two characters. This didn't go through my beta-reader, so be prepared to spot errors that I might have overlooked.

**Rating** : PG-13 for adult themes, some swearing

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm only a tech writer with outrageously low pay.

**A/N** : This was a gift-fic that I wrote last year for Mistress 259, so how it reads may be a bit different from the way I write now. I know it's ridiculously late to be posting this now, but Mistress alerted me to the fact that I haven't updated in months, and that people might start to interpret that to mean that I might be abandoning WH – that's not the case. The next chapter's done; I'm just… having a bit of problem with the edits. So I'm posting this and the next drabble to tide you guys over in the meantime...

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

There was a box on the table.

Kuroro Lucifer stared at it in bewildered horror. He was bewildered because Kurapika had set it down in front of him as soon as the blonde had arrived after being away on an assignment for the Hunter Association. He was horrified because the box had little red and green spiders all over it.

He touched the box with some apprehension, half-expecting the glittering monstrosities under his fingers to bloat up and spring to life, but his hands only felt the smooth, almost slippery texture of waxed paper.

"What's this?"

Kurapika looked up and smiled lopsidedly. "It's wrapping paper, Kuroro. Don't worry. I haven't dusted it with anything biologically or chemically toxic."

"I know that it's wrapping paper." Kuroro paused. He frowned as he continued to regard the neatly-wrapped box on the coffee table. "I also know that I've told you before that red and green don't go well together."

Kurapika rolled his eyes and went back to rooting around his knapsack. "It's your Christmas present, silly."

"Christmas," Kuroro echoed.

"Christmas," Kurapika reiterated. "One of the main holidays of the religion of Christianity, to celebrate the birth of their savior. They have Christmas feasts on the eve of the twenty-fourth, they display decorated pine trees and garlands of mistletoe and holly in and around their homes, and they give gifts to friends and loved ones to express affection and gratitude. Red and green are traditional colors."

Kuroro's mind gleefully homed in on Kurapika's implication about him being a "loved one" who deserved a sign of affection, even as it voiced its amusement at the encyclopedic explanation. He managed to limit his reaction to a bemused blink. "I know what Christmas is. We've never celebrated it before, though."

"I wanted to do something different this year. And Christianity is the main religion of the Pearl Islands," Kurapika said, referring to the country where he had stayed for the past two weeks. "The archeologists I worked with invited me to their party. I guess I got caught up in their celebrations."

Kuroro turned his attention back to the box, but this time he tried to think of what it might contain rather than linger on fashion faux pas of putting cherry red and forest green together.

"If it makes you feel better, I wasn't going to wrap it. But then I saw that wrapping paper in the gift shop of the hotel where I stayed at, and I couldn't resist…"

Kuroro looked up just in time to see his lover's eyes gleam with something that looked remarkably like mischief.

"I bought the whole sheaf," Kurapika added, with the satisfied air of someone who had just made a large and very valuable purchase at a very low price.

Years of living with the Kuruta hadn't dulled his ability to mask his emotions, but this time Kuroro couldn't help wincing, couldn't help flicking his eyes to where Kurapika had set his luggage on the floor. Such a large purchase would have to be rolled or bundled and tied with twine for easier carrying; he looked for it, and wondered if he could throw it away or maybe even burn without Kurapika knowing about it.

Kurapika seemed completely oblivious to the decidedly traitorous turn his partner's thoughts have taken, and continued to talk about the wrapping paper like it wasn't the most hideous thing Kuroro had ever seen. "You should have seen the clerk when I told her that I'd take the entire sheaf. She seemed inordinately pleased to be rid of it…"

_Gee, I wonder why,_ Kuroro thought sarcastically. He couldn't see anything that resembled a bundle of wrapping paper – in fact, Kurapika only carried a knapsack and that box with him when he arrived. The younger man liked to travel light, and Kuroro would have noticed immediately if he'd carried anything else with him.

"You can stop looking for it, Kuroro," Kurapika remarked dryly. "I don't have any left over except that bit wrapped around your present."

"You can't mean to tell me that you used it all up wrapping this?"

"Of course not. My job pays well, and I was feeling generous… I gave gifts to the other Ryodan, too."

Kuroro had a sudden vision of the blonde running amok in a gag gift shop.

"Do I dare ask what you gave them?"

Some form of dismay must have shown on his face this time, because Kurapika looked at him and grinned playfully. "Normal gifts, for the most part. A journal for Pakunoda, perfume for Machi, a new book for Shizuku… extra-large shoes for Franklin, because I know how hard it is for him to find his size in shoe stores, and a three-piece suit and trousers for Coltopi, that I had tailor-made in his size because I know that he doesn't like wearing clothes from the children's section…"

Kuroro let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. So far the gifts were mundane – thoughtful, even, considering that the Kuruta didn't have a real reason to give them, and all the cause in the world to send gag gifts that the Ryodan's perverse senses of humor would appreciate. Kurapika's relationship with the other Geneiryodan members hadn't been hostile for years, but they weren't exactly close friends, either. Both parties regarded each other with wary respect and acknowledgement rather than anything warm or touchy-feely.

Kurapika continued to list his gifts, and as Kuroro listened he realized that said list was growing less and less mundane.

"… A new cellular phone for Shalnark, because however carefully he takes care of the things he always gets them damaged when he's fighting, boxing gloves for Bonorenolf – and I know that he collects them, Shalnark told me that he has a whole trunk full of them – two dozen packs of playing cards for Hisoka, and one-way plane tickets to the Sky Arena from anywhere in the world, for Feitan and Phinx."

Kuroro blinked again. The cellular phone and the boxing gloves he'd understand, and he knew that Hisoka would appreciate the playing cards because of his penchant for card pyramid-building, but the plane tickets were a bit over the top. They were too expensive for casual gifts. Phinx and Feitan would certainly jump at the opportunity to cause mayhem in Sky Arena's fighting tournaments, but he didn't think that Kurapika would willingly spend money on those two.

"Origin-unspecified one-way plane tickets? They're one of the most expensive types! Are you sure –"

Kurapika's smile widened, and Kuroro cut off his exclamation. That expression reminded him uncomfortably of his own smiles whenever he was about to spring something naughty on the blonde.

"It'll be worth the looks on Phinx and Feitan's faces when they meet Hisoka on the 200th floor," Kurapika said, grinning wolfishly, "And worth the look on _Hisoka's_ face when he meets them in battle. I checked; Hisoka is in the Sky Arena right now, and will be there for the next couple of months."

Now _there_ was the mischief he'd expected and feared would pervade Kurapika's gifts to the other members. The young man had matured vastly since York Shin, enough to acknowledge the existence of the gray in between the black and white, and enough to let himself accept whatever odd feelings of affection and camaraderie he'd developed for the other Ryodan, but not enough to pass up chances to play pranks on the members who he thought needed to be reminded of what he was capable of doing.

But, on second thought, the gifts he'd given to Hisoka, Phinx and Feitan weren't actually rude or harmful, nothing that would cause hostilities to erupt between them and Kurapika the next time they met… and Kuroro imagined that those three would probably welcome the excuse to fight each other on equal ground.

"I wonder if our cable service supports broadcasts from the Sky Arena…" Kurapika said musingly, more to himself than to Kuroro, as he took a break from unpacking and turned his laptop on. Kuroro knew that electronic mail was the blonde's preferred means of communication with his friends. He'd be busy checking his email for the next few minutes – and in the meantime Kuroro tried to think of why he felt as if he'd forgotten something…

Kurapika's cellular phone rang from somewhere within his knapsack, and he took it out and read the caller's name on the LCD screen. "It's Nobunaga," he announced.

And that something in Kuroro's mind clicked – he realized that Kurapika didn't say if he had given anything to the samurai. He had a feeling that he was about to find out. Kurapika pressed a key to turn the loudspeaker option on instead of answering it personally, and he set the phone down in the coffee table so Kuroro could participate in the conversation if he wanted to.

"Oi, brat," Nobunaga's grating baritone floated up from the phone's speaker, "What the hell is this?!"

"Happy Holidays to you, too, Nobunaga," Kurapika replied cheerfully. If Kuroro didn't know any better he'd say that the blonde sounded completely sincere. He really was sincere, of course, but his voice was just too… bouncy, too chipper to be entirely free of guile.

"Merry Chri – like hell!!! The day you give me something useful will be the day I dye my hair pink!! Now cut the crap and tell me what this bottle is!"

"You've received your gift, then?"

"Yeah! It's poison, isn't it?? You son of a bitch –"

"It's an aphrodisiac. _Sildenafil citrate_, to be exact, scented to smell and taste like strawberries. Viagra, in liquid form – which, technically, isn't an aphrodisiac because it doesn't affect your mood. What it _does_ do is treat pulmonary arterial hypertension and male erectile dysfunction."

Kuroro grimaced. This gift was the worst of the lot – Kurapika was actually implying that Nobunaga was impotent! The man's going to explode any second now, he was sure of it. He waited for it, but the silence stretched on, three seconds, five seconds, and it suddenly occurred to him that Kurapika probably chose such a technical-sounding explanation exactly because he delighted in confounding poor Nobunaga so –

Nine seconds, and Kurapika reached forward to end the call, just as Kuroro heard a strangled roar coming from the other end of the line. He watched in resignation as the blonde pressed additional keys to mute the phone, and to turn its vibration function off. Sure enough, as Kurapika set it back down on the table its LCD screen lighted up, signaling an incoming call. Nobunaga was probably trying to call again. Kurapika ignored it and returned to his laptop.

"You're not going to answer that?" Kuroro asked.

"No." Kurapika laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not _that_ evil. That wasn't the only thing I gave him. I instructed the courier to give him the bottle, wait ten minutes, then knock again and give him my real gift – a jar of _choji_ oil for his sword."

Three minutes later the LCD screen stopped lighting up. Either Nobunaga had given up trying to call, or Kurapika had been telling the truth, and the courier had just delivered the second gift.

"See?"

Kuroro shook his head. Not long ago the blonde wouldn't have given anything, not even the first gag gift. _Choji_ oil, a non-acidic lubricating oil used to prevent rust from forming on katana blades, wasn't remarkably expensive or hard to find, but it was still something that Nobunaga _would_ find useful.

"The Viagra's real, though. He can still use it if he wants to."

Knowing Nobunaga, the bottle would probably be in several hundred pieces by now, and its strawberry-scented contents splattered all over the wall or the floor.

"What did you get for Leorio and the kids?" he asked, a bit too casually than he would have liked. He was honestly curious; if the Kuruta had placed that much thought into choosing Christmas gifts for his ex-enemies, then what would his presents to his best friends be like? And it was a given that he would give those three gifts much more valuable than what he'd given the members of the Geneiryodan. _They_ were real friends, the kind that didn't forget their past experiences together even after time and distance and purpose had sent them down different paths. Kurapika still met with them once every few months, and Kuroro let him go, trusting, and never fearing that the blonde might have second thoughts about living with him.

But Kuroro was a thief first and foremost, and that wasn't going to change, not even with Kurapika's tempering influence. It was a… profession, that he was born into, one that was irrevocably entwined with his life and his principles, even if those principles may sometimes be bent, just slightly, to fit with what his partner wanted from him – and Kurapika understood that, and had learned to live with a man who occasionally orchestrated massive robberies on the world's filthy rich, somehow without excessively compromising his own principles.

That meant that Kurapika, as a blacklist hunter, sometimes had to live a kind of double life, one side of it being his life as a criminal hunter, the other side being the lover of a well-known criminal. Kuroro used to wonder – and he wondered now, if the younger man had ever wished for a life where they never met.

Kuroro stopped that line of thought with a bit of effort, and focused on what Kurapika was saying in reply to his question.

"I gave Leorio a set of surgical tools. They'd probably fit him better than the ones he's using right now, because the smith who made them was also a _houshutsu_ nen-user… Then plane tickets like the ones I sent to Phinx and Feitan for Gon and Killua, only their destination is set to that new amusement park that just opened north of Varis City. And I got Senritsu a present, too – a native flute the Pearl Island locals play in their folk songs…"

He was right. Compared to most of the gifts given to the Geneiryodan, these gifts were chosen with the recipients' interests in mind. Kuroro nodded and made a vague sound of approval and looked at the box on the table. His gift would probably be like the ones in the first set, he thought with just the smallest bit of sadness. Expensive, maybe, but not exactly tailored to fit _him_. He and Kurapika both knew that the pain of the past could not be forgotten, but it could be soothed with subsequent actions and events – what had happened, what they had both done in York Shin and after was proof of that, but at that moment all he could think of was that nothing could change the fact that he and his group had still caused Kurapika an untold amount of grief.

"Kuroro," Kurapika called, so gently that he almost missed it, and when he looked up the blonde was looking at him with blue eyes alight with understanding and acceptance and love.

"Your gift is much more valuable than all the others put together," Kurapika said softly. "You have nothing to worry about. Go ahead; open it."

Kuroro started with the ribbon – an elaborate arrangement that came apart with one firm tug at a protruding end. The rustle the ribbon made as it unfurled sounded like a siren in the sudden silence of the room – Kurapika didn't even make a sound as he came over to join him on the couch. Kuroro's fingers sought the adhesive tapes that held the wrapping paper together, and his fingertips carefully picked at the tapes' edges until he could remove them without damaging the paper underneath. Kurapika watched his hands the entire time, watched him painstakingly unwrap the box on the table, and distantly Kuroro thought that he shouldn't be surprised that the blonde had read his thoughts so easily. They really did fit each other well; and as the wrapping paper came away he realized that he shouldn't have doubted…

He'd naturally begun to try to guess what the gift was when Kurapika hinted that it was more valuable than all the others combined. He'd narrowed the possibilities down to something large and unwieldy while he was removing the wrapping paper; whatever it was weighed enough that he needed to exert considerable strength to lift it with one hand, and the container itself measured a foot on all sides. He'd known that his present was something that shouldn't be bumped around, when he set the last of the wrapping paper aside and opened the top flap of the thick cardboard box and saw the layers of translucent bubble wrap rolled around something white and blocky.

Kurapika held the box still for him while he took his present out, and Kuroro slowly peeled the layers of bubble wrap away to see what they had been protecting.

It was a marble sculpture of two wolves – one inky black and the other pure white – curled around each other, set inside a vertical rectangular frame. One side and the bottom frame was black, as was the wolf that was carved from that half. The other side and the top frame and the wolf that belonged to that half was white – which was what Kuroro had seen through the bubble wrap when he had first opened the box. Each wolf's head was raised proudly over the other's rump; each wolf's tail was curled possessively around the other's forelegs. They were positioned so that the black wolf seemed to be climbing up a scraggy hill, while the white wolf was inverted, but Kuroro could immediately see that both halves were symmetrical, so that if he turned the sculpture over the white wolf would be the one climbing uphill while the black one would be inverted.

It was one of the most exquisite works of art he had ever seen.

Kurapika was smiling when Kuroro turned to him in wide-eyed awe. He continued to smile as he took hold of one of Kuroro's hands and placed it on top of the sculpture. Then he ran his other hand down the white side, and carefully pushed up and backwards, and lifted the entire white half off.

"It's actually a pair of bookends which can double as a single statue, or two statues if you prefer," Kurapika explained. "They're among the pieces I helped excavate last week. I had to sign a lot of papers to get the expedition's sponsors and the Hunter Association to agree to give these two to me, but eventually I convinced them that I'd forfeit my nen first before I'd let anything happen to them."

Kuroro's head whirled when he realized that he was being given a genuine historical artifact. He'd handled several before, of course, but always as a thief, and never as a legal owner. That Kurapika was trusting him to take care of it, putting his nen and his reputation as a Hunter at stake for him, made the gift all the more precious. And it was a statue that came apart to form a pair of bookends – Kurapika had hit two of his main interests, art and books, with a single gift. He didn't miss all the hidden implications, either, that wolves were monogamous, that they were fierce and protective of their own and were loyal to their mates until death, and he didn't miss that one wolf was black and the other was white, and that when he positioned the bookends as if on a bookcase and with books between them, both wolves' heads were turned towards each other, like a silent, unbreakable vow of love.

Kurapika was looking at him anxiously now, waiting for a reaction other than dumbfounded silence – and Kuroro gave it to him, in the form of a long, slow kiss, conveying all the emotions he was feeling, requited love and longing, gratitude and relief and joy. When they finally pulled away Kurapika's face was flushed and his eyes were heavy-lidded with desire. Kuroro himself was similarly affected – both of them had gone for two weeks without the other by their side, and whatever urges they'd had to ignore for those two weeks were making themselves known quite vehemently – but he brought himself under control and rested his forehead on the blonde's.

"Thank you," Kuroro breathed, "Thank you for this. Thank you for trusting me with this."

"You like it, then?"

He laughed. Kurapika was adorable when he was being shy. "Of course I do! These will be perfect for the bedroom bookshelf. But…" Kuroro frowned. "I don't have anything to give you right now."

"You don't have to give me anything," the Kuruta replied. "It's enough that you liked it."

"But I like spoiling you. It shouldn't be the other way around…" Kuroro thought for a short moment, but he kept his gaze on Kurapika's eyes, seeking inspiration in those blue depths. The young man had such high standards, but Kuroro knew him like the back of his own hand, so it shouldn't be that difficult to think of an appropriate, if not more valuable, present…

"I'll get you something later," Kuroro said finally, as his mind could only come up with vague suggestions and nothing concrete that he could act on immediately. "But for now, would a wish be all right?"

"You're not going to give me the moon if I asked for it, are you?" Kurapika asked wryly.

"I'm serious! One wish – I won't protest, I won't argue, I'll do anything you want me to do."

Kuroro saw it, the moment that Kurapika fully understood how serious he was being. Just as the blonde was trusting him to take care of the bookends, Kuroro was placing _his_ trust, even his life, in the other's hands. Kurapika could ask him to disband the Ryodan at that moment, and he wouldn't hesitate to do so. He would never ask for that, of course – Kurapika knew that the Brigade would always remain an integral part of Kuroro's life and purpose, and to take it away would be tantamount to taking away part of his soul – but it was the principle of the offer that mattered, the interplay of trust that each was giving to the other.

Kurapika drew a deep breath – probably to calm himself in the face of the enormity of Kuroro's intangible gift – and smiled sheepishly. "It's perfect – if you'll allow me to take a rain check on that. I want to save that wish for when I really need you to obey me without question."

The blonde was right, of course; it was something that shouldn't be rushed into, but Kuroro still couldn't help having a go at the blonde's wording. "Aww… Are you sure? I had the whips and the leather straps ready and all…"

Kurapika predictably groaned. "You're insufferable! Shoo! Go on, go try these bookends on the bedroom bookshelf –" Kuroro jumped up and out of the way of the Kuruta's swatting hands, taking the bookends with him. "– I'll join you after I clean up here." And the dancho of the Geneiryodan practically bounded the rest of the way, giving one last devilish grin before disappearing into the bedroom.

What Leorio or Nobunaga would say if those two ever see him and Kuroro interacting when there was no one else around, Kurapika wasn't sure he wanted to find out, but their reactions would certainly be interesting. Kuroro Lucifer acting like an exuberant child honestly wasn't a scene he would have expected to see before York Shin. But he had long since stopped thinking of what-ifs; his life really had turned out better than he had expected, and he wanted – no, needed Kuroro to be part of it, to be there with him for the rest of it.

He already knew that Kuroro felt the same way.

Kurapika folded the spider-themed wrapping paper and the ribbon – both still in pristine condition – and placed them on Kuroro's desk. He knew that the older man disapproved of overly bright colors that clashed horribly with each other, and he'd chosen that particular design on purpose, but the careful way with which Kuroro unwrapped his gift suggested that he planned on keeping the wrapping paper as some kind of remembrance. The bubble wrap, he stuffed into one of their storage cabinets. The adhesive tapes were nowhere to be found. Kuroro had probably already chucked them into the trash bin while he wasn't looking.

He returned to his laptop and opened his email program, which automatically downloaded his incoming messages into his inbox as soon as a connection with the Hunter Association's server was established. There were emails from Gon and Killua, and Leorio and Senritsu, probably to thank him for their presents, and a few from the more emotionally-demonstrative members of the Ryodan. He decided to save them to read at a later time.

Just as he was about to exit the program, one particular message caught his eye – an email from the Hunter Association. It could be a message asking for a follow-up report about his assignment in the Pearl Islands, which wouldn't be too urgent, but just to be sure Kurapika opened it, in case it was actually something important…

It was a message from Chairman Netero himself, asking Kurapika if he would agree to sign up as one of next year's Examiners. The upcoming Hunter Exam would start in late January; Kurapika would have enough time to prepare his test. He could decline, of course, but Netero, obviously trying very hard to convince him to say yes, described the privileges he would enjoy during the exam itself, the credentials that would be added to his résumé, and the small sum that he'd be paid should he accept the task in eager, enthusiastic words. Even his post-script came off as being really spirited and lively: "Tell your soul mate hello and Merry Christmas for me, my boy!"

Kurapika could actually imagine the old man laughing jovially while saying that.

He went through his mental calendar. So far, he didn't have anything planned for January or February, and he hadn't heard Kuroro say anything about a mission during that period –

_Hold on._

Kurapika sat staring at the computer screen, mind furiously working as the beginnings of an outrageous plan formed and came into place. He'd been trying to convince Kuroro to participate in the Hunter Exams, for almost the same reasons as the ones Shalnark liked to give in his attempts to get the other members to join, but Kuroro always refused, stubbornly insisting that the rights accorded to legal Hunters, while convenient, were things that he could get easily with his abilities.

Privately, Kurapika thought that his partner was just being lazy and didn't want to work up a sweat.

This would be the perfect opportunity to get Kuroro to join. Kurapika could use his wish, and Kuroro would have to obey – the dark-haired man was an artifact hunter in all but name, anyway. His eye for antiquities and relics was one of the best that Kurapika knew. And the Hunter Examinations would just be a formality; Kuroro could sail through it effortlessly with his capabilities.

And if nothing else, a Hunter certification would give mercenaries cause to think twice before swooping down on Kuroro and Kurapika while they were out minding their own business.

Kurapika exited from the email program and turned his laptop off, but only after he'd typed a short reply declaring his acceptance, and a post-script of his own, asking if Netero would mind if he brought along one S-class criminal as an Examinee…

--- end ---

notes:

The title's cheesy, I know. I can change it once I come up with something that sounds better, but for now my brain just isn't working right.

Hunter X Hunter geography is a pain in the ass. I had to go through my manga scanlations and the first episodes of the anime to check the places that Gon & co. visited during the Hunter Exam. In the end I decided that it's be easier if I just invented a couple more new locations. The _Pearl Islands_ and _Varis City_ are parallels of the Philippines and Paris. I remember that the Philippines was called the "Pearl of the Orient Seas" – I don't know if that's still being used now. Yukitsu was the one who suggested Varis when I couldn't think of another new location, and I needed a relatively large and prosperous city. Credits to her for the suggestion. XD

The information about the Viagra's real, except for it being available in liquid form and having a strawberry taste. I searched for it in Wikipedia, and added those touches just to spite Nobunaga. X3

_Choji_ oil is real, too. I looked for sword care information on Google and picked the oil from a list of things you would find in a normal katana care kit.

And as for wolves being monogamous… unless my memory's failed me, I remember reading, or hearing somewhere that wolves are among the few animals which stay loyal to one partner. Correct me if I'm wrong, because I'm feeling too lazy to confirm the fact with a thorough research.

Finished January 22, 2006.


	8. Fireplace

**Title** : Fireplace

**Author** : lynlyn

**Yahoo ID and email** : cloud121383

**Warnings** : Kuroro/Kurapika slash warning, Killua/Gon if you squint a bit, massive OOC-ness, alcohol warning

**Rating** : PG-13 for adult themes, some swearing

**Disclaimer** : I do not own Hunter X Hunter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm only a tech writer with outrageously low pay.

**A/N** : And this is a gift-fic that I wrote this year for littlewolfstar. "Fireplace" was her prompt, and this was the result. Again, I thought that I should post this and the previous drabble here to tide you guys over while I'm trying to edit chapter 22 of WH… I'll finish it and upload it as soon as possible, I promise.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Kurapika awoke with a sense of foreboding.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't foreboding, not exactly. His sense for danger was calm. He couldn't feel anyone in the immediate vicinity, certainly no one whose mere presence would be enough to rouse him from dead sleep. It wasn't apprehension, either, not the kind he'd feel upon waking up to find his partner doing Things That Shouldn't Be Done In The Morning. So what woke him…?

"–rapikaaaa…"

There it was – a thin, reedy wail of distress from outside the room, and the blond reacted as he would in such situations, quickly rolling out of bed and moving towards the source of the sound on silent feet. He was in the middle of the hallway that branched off to the master bedroom and the guestroom when the second call came, and that was when he checked his speed, stopping to cock his head to listen more closely.

The voice was familiar and dear to him, one that he knew as well as his own, and yet – now that he'd had a few seconds to analyze the situation, he realized that it was also strange and out-of-character. He'd never heard it sound so pathetic before. The owner of the voice wouldn't call for him in such a pitiful manner if there was any danger involved, so the blond concluded that there was no real emergency – or at least, not the life-and-death kind.

Kurapika continued at a more sedate but no less cautious pace. There was no telling what mischief Kuroro could have gotten into while he was asleep, so he had best prepare himself for anything.

… Anything should have included, well, everything, but even that wouldn't be enough to cover all the bases where Kuroro Lucifer was concerned. So Kurapika couldn't be faulted for reacting as he did, when he took the first step out into the den, and despite all his mental preparations still froze at the sight of a pair of legs sticking out of the marble fireplace.

It was quite obvious who the legs belonged to, really, but some distant part of his mind remembered what date it was and instantaneously came up with the explanation that would make the most sense in light of the situation he was faced with.

"… Santa?"

The pair of legs shifted slightly, a jerky, vaguely disturbing movement if Kurapika imagined that they were moving by themselves without the aid of the upper half, but it was more likely that said upper half had just tried to turn around but had to stop in the confines of the flue.

"Kurapika?" the voice called again, with renewed vigor this time around. "Oh, thank god, my shoulders are starting to ache – you think you could – right, laugh at me in my hour of need, why don't you."

The blond didn't quite hear the last indignant sentence; he was laughing too hard, but the injured tone reached him. He staggered upright from where he'd collapsed against the wall in helpless laughter and managed to suppress his mirth long enough to ask what had happened.

"Err. I tried to come down the chimney and got stuck," Kuroro's muffled voice answered. His legs – and the bit of bottom that was sticking out of the fireplace fidgeted, as if embarrassed. Oh, yes, did he have good reason to be embarrassed, the boy thought as he groped for his mobile phone, which was handily within reach on a nearby countertop. Fortunately he'd turned off all but the most necessary of the phone's sound options, so it didn't make the default shutter-click sound when he quickly took a picture of the predicament Kuroro had gotten himself into.

"Whatever possessed you to do that?" the blond asked as he set his phone back down on the countertop.

"Nothing." Kuroro fidgeted again. His voice had gotten very small and subdued – Kurapika had to strain his ears to hear it through the brickwork of the fireplace. "I was reading up on holiday traditions."

"And you suddenly wanted to try going down the chimney like Santa Claus is believed to do?"

"It is weird after all, right?" Kuroro replied in earnest. "I mean, how can people possibly believe that a fat man wearing a red suit with fur trimmings can fit in a chimney and not get soot on his clothes?"

Kurapika shook his head in disbelief. "Soot…? I don't think that's the point, but, why did you still try to do it if you knew that it was impossible?"

Kuroro wriggled his toes – maybe as a substitute for a shrug while his shoulders were still indisposed. "Just curious, I guess?"

The blond warily approached the fireplace, and as he did he spotted the bottle of wine on the coffee table. Kuroro's laptop was nearby, browser open to an article about the mythical figure in question, and there was a tumbler beside it, half-full of a dark red liquid that he assumed came from the bottle, and finally an open box, still with its shiny silver wrapping. His eyes could just make out the pattern on the wrapper – the black and red-colored crest of a certain assassin family.

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

The older man squirmed again at his accusation. "Just slightly," he protested in childish defense.

Kurapika reached for the card tucked into a fold in the silver wrapper. The dedication to one Kuroro Lucifer was written in an adolescent scrawl. "… Will rot your brains and make your teeth fall out," he read out aloud.

"See? I can't back down after reading something like that!" Kuroro called out.

Kurapika shook his head again and hoped to dear god that Killua hadn't been drinking the stuff. He knew for a fact that the younger boy had invited Gon to one of his family's numerous estates for the holidays, and he didn't even want to start thinking about the possible results of mixing the assassin's precociousness, Gon's propensity for reckless behavior, and a second bottle of the same wine that was obviously potent enough to inebriate the leader of the Phantom Brigade after only half a glass.

"Honestly, you should know better than to accept liquor from a Zaoldyeck," he admonished.

"… I'll keep that in mind," Kuroro mumbled after a short pause.

At least he's admitting to his mistake, the blond thought in fond exasperation.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked as he ran his hands over the brickwork.

"Eh – maybe pull me out? I can't get leverage with my arms stuck like this – I don't have anything to hook my feet through, either."

That was awfully vague and ordinary for a suggestion from Kuroro. The man must be seriously drunk if he couldn't think of anything more specific and elaborate. He didn't even give a warning about being careful – if Kurapika pulled too hard or pulled from a wrong angle he might injure the older man, or should he choose to solve the dilemma by attacking the brickwork the fireplace will get damaged.

"Right," the blond muttered after he'd thought for a bit. It should be fine as long as he controlled his strength. He sighted on a spot right above where Kuroro's head ought to be behind the brickwork of the flue, raised his hand, and then brought it down against the wall of the fireplace in an open-handed slap. The dull thump echoed up through the chimney, and the force of his blow jogged bits and pieces of the mortar loose.

Kuroro yelped in alarm. "Wha – what are you doing?"

"Just making sure that you're loose in there," Kurapika replied loudly. "Get ready, I'm going to pull you out."

One hard yank was all it took, and the fireplace spat Kuroro out like how someone would spit out the seeds in a bite of fruit – and along with him a cloud of black soot and powdery white snow that must have fallen on the man when Kurapika struck the brickwork. The blond pulled a face at the mess – and Kuroro was covered in the slush, too.

The Geneiryodan head coughed once, and then raised his arms to inspect himself and his immediate surroundings mournfully. "I've got soot all over," he complained. Kurapika tried not to let his amusement get the better of him again, but it was difficult – the other man looked so adorably dejected. He was also very drunk, and seemed incapable of maintaining his usual dignified air. The boy sighed – partly long-sufferingly, and also to use the action to keep his reactions under control – and reached forward to take hold of Kuroro's very dirty hands.

"Come on, up you go. You need a bath – Ah, no, don't –" Kurapika cut his protest off and looked down at himself and Kuroro's back in dismay. He'd underestimated the degree of Kuroro's intoxication; the man had gotten up, but then he'd immediately draped himself all over the nearest upright object. Now they were both dirty and wet.

"Join me?" Kuroro murmured.

The boy's eyes narrowed slightly. The Geneiryodan leader looked quite pleased, like he'd suddenly stumbled on an open vault full of priceless artifacts. It was subtly different from his normal naughty cat-that-ate-the-canary grins, though. There was a hint of surprised delight, as if he hadn't been expecting to find himself with an armful of Kuruta. Maybe it was the goofy-looking grin; grins were markedly different from conniving smirks, after all.

The blond shook his head again. He was thinking far too much into Kuroro's strange behavior. The man was simply drunk, which was in itself already a very strange occurrence. He should give Kuroro the benefit of the doubt before jumping to conclusions.

"I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?" he remarked. Kuroro grinned even wider. Then he started to nuzzle the side of Kurapika's neck in a fit of drunken affection.

Ah, well. He had insurance in case Kuroro tried to pull anything funny.

--- end ---

I'd posted this and the previous drabble at my LiveJournal, but I'm getting the feeling that not all of you check it on a regular basis, or remember to check it at all, or even know that I infrequently post drabbles up there that I may or may not post here, so, yeah, posting it here.

Hm. Too bad this site can't display different-sized texts. If you'll look at my LJ post you'll see that I wrote Kuroro's "–rapikaaaa…" in smaller-sized text there. Sort of an effect, like how the actual wail of distress might sound like. XD

And in case I still can't finish WH 22 in time to greet you all – have a happy and peaceful new year's, everyone!

Finished December 29, 2007.


End file.
